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A  DaNBUKY  bPELLlXG-SCHOOL. 


THEY  ALL  DO  IT; 


MR.  MIGGS  OF  DANBURY  AND  HIS 
NEIGHBORS. 


A    FAITHFUL   RECORD    OF   WHAT    BEFELL   THE    MIGCSES 
ON    SEVERAL    IMPORTANT    OCCASIONS.      TO- 
GETHER   WITH    A    FULL    ACCOUNT    OF 
STIRRING      EVENTS      IN      THE 
NEIGHBORHOOD   IN  THE 
INTER  VAl.3. 


CAREFULLY  PREPARED  BY  J.  M.  BAILEY, 

THE   DANBURY-NEVVS    MAN. 


5llustrateli» 


BOSTON 
LEE  AND   SHEPARD   PUBLISHERS 

10      MILK        STREET 


>-u 


BOOKS  BY  JAMES  M.   BAILEY 


England  from  a  Back  Window 

Cloth,  $1.00.    Paper,  60  cenU 

Life  in  Danbury,  Illustrated 

Cloth,  $1.00.    Paper,  50  cents 

Mr.  Phillip's  Goneness 

Cloth,  $1.00.    Paper,  50  cents 

The  Danbury  Boom,  Illustrated 

Cloth,  $1.00.    Paper,  50  cents 

They  All  Do  It,  Illustrated 

Cloth,  $1.00.    Paper,  50  cents 


LEE  AND  SHEPARD,  Publishers 
BOSTON 


CO^VRICHT. 

4cBB     AND     ShEPARJP. 
•877. 


PREFACE. 


It  is  the  custom  for  an  author  to  preface  his  volume 
with  an  apology  for  appearing  before  the  public.  In 
this  case,  an  apology  is  needed,  I  fear,  for  the  author 
not  appearing  ere  this.  It  is  four  years  since  I  came 
to  you  in  book-shape :  the  absence  was  unavoidable. 
When  "  Life  in  Danbury  "  was  published,  I  believed  it 
would  be  the  last,  as  it  was  the  first,  compilation  of 
writings  I  should  make.  Even  in  the  flush  of  its  great 
success  I  did  not  waver  in  this  belief.  In  the  interven- 
ing years  I  have  been  frequently  solicited  to  bring  out 
a  similar  book,  but  steadily  refused.  A  "  similar  "  work 
was  not  desirable.  I  wanted  something  different,  some- 
thing much  better,  for  a  second  book ;  and  enough  mate- 
rial for  this  purpose  was  not  at  hand.  It  required  time 
to  accumulate.  That  time  has  been  accomplished  now, 
I  believe ;  and  I  send  forth  this  volume  in  the  confi- 


IV  PREFACE. 

dence,  that,  whatever  it  may  do  for  the  publisher  and 
myself,  it  is  a  much  better  book  than  its  predecessor. 

The  contents  of  the  first  book  were  almost  entirely 
selected  from  the  issues  of  "  The  News  "  in  the  year 
immediately  preceding,  and  many  of  the  articles  were 
fresh  in  the  mind  of  the  general  reader.  This  was 
dreadfully  unpleasant ;  but  it  was  unavoidable.  Again  : 
the  volume  was  largely  composed  of  short  paragraphs, 
which  may  have  been  good  enough  in  their  way,  but, 
from  their  brevity,  made  the  reading  a  trifle  hummocky, 
and  tended  somewhat  to  mar  the  symmetry  of  the  plot. 

I  like  to  see  the  plot  of  a  book  all  right,  even  if  the 
binding  is  a  little  lame. 

The  selections  for  this  volume  cover  a  period  of  four 
years.  From  the  abundance  of  material  in  that  time 
furnished,  a  careful  and  conscientious  choice  has  been 
made.  It  is  a  compilation  of  sketches  and  essays  with- 
out paragraphs  ;  and,  from  beginning  to  end,  not  one  of 
its  fair  pages  is  sullied  by  a  pun. 

It  is  just  such  a  book  as  I  have  often  awaked  in  the 
night  and  wished  the  other  had  been,  but  which  was, 
at  the  time,  impossible  to  make. 


PREFACE.  V 

And  just  here  I  desire  to  heartily  thank  the  public 
for  the  enthusiastic  reception  it  gave  to  "  Life  in  Dan- 
bury,"  and  express  my  gratitude  to  the  writers  of  the 
hundreds  of  letters  sent  me  by  pleased  readers.  If  I 
were  not  made  proud  and  happy  by  these  manifesta- 
tions of  approval,  I  would  be  less  than  human. 

Now,  dear  reader,  do  be  careful  in  going  through 
this  book.  Do  be  calm  :  there  is  no  hurry.  It  is  not 
intended  to  be  read  through  at  a  sitting.  Not  one 
constitution  in  a  hundred  can  pass  through  such  an 
ordeal  without  seriously  impairing  its  future  usefulness. 
It  is  a  work  to  be  consulted  at  odd  times.  It  is  de- 
signed to  rest  you  when  you  are  tired,  to  cheer  you 
when  depressed,  and  to  tone  you  down  generally  when 
you  are  inclined  to  make  yourself  disagreeable  about 
the  house. 

Take  it  with  your  solid  reading  as  you  would  sauce 
with  your  food. 

The  man  who  sits  down  to  a  dinner  of  roast  turkey, 
and  fills  himself  to  the  brim  with  stewed  cranberries, 
is  not  necessarily  a  foe  to  the  cook ;  but  he  should  be 
promptly  and  carefully  examined  by  a  good  doctor. 


VI  PREFACE. 

This  is  a  duty  he  owes  to  his  family,  I  think. 

Trusting  that  the  good  feeling  brought  about  by  the 
advent  of  the  other  book  will  be  greatly  stimulated  by 
this,  I  remain 

Yours  sincerely, 

THE  AUTHOR. 


MR.    MIGGS    OF   DANBURY, 

AND   OTHER  SKETCHES. 


MIGGS'S    JULIA. 

"Well,  I  declare,  if  the  Miggses  haven't  got 
another  young  one ! "  observed  Mrs.  Melville  to 
Mrs.  Ronton,  who'^ived  next  door,  one  morning  in 
November  last. 

"You  don't  say!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Ronton  in 
considerable  amazement,  which  was  heightened  in 
effect  by  a  mark  of  flour  on  her  nose,  as  she  was 
mixing  bread  when  the  information  came  to  her, 

"  Yes  :  my  Henry  just  told  me.  It  does  beat  all 
what  poor  people  want  of  so  many  young  ones.  It 
seems  as  if,  the  less  people  had,  the  more  mouths 
they  got  to  fill.  Now,  them  Miggses  have  all  they 
can  do  to  get  bread  and  potatoes  for  what  they 
have  got ;  and  now  they've  gone  and  got  another 
mouth  to  fill.  I  have  no  patience  with  them  at 
all." 

It  immediately  transpired  that  what  Mrs.  Mel- 
ville thought  was  just  what  Mrs.  Ronton  thought. 


MR.     MIGGS    OF     DANBURY. 


And  it  came  about  very  soon,  that  the  entire  neigh- 
borhood was  of  the  same  opinion.  The  Miggses 
had  made  an  unhappy  mistake. 

Miggs's  Julia  came  in  the  dawn  of  the  day  when 
Mrs.  Melville  communed  with  Mrs.  Ronton.  All 
through  that  night  the  wind  howled  and  shrieked 
and  screamed,  and  the  rain  came  in  dashes  so  pro- 
longed and  fierce,  as  if  it  was  pouring  out  the  con- 
centrated fury  of  five  centuries  upon  the  devoted 
earth.  It  was  not  a  propitious  night  for  taking  a 
first  view  of  this  world  ;  and  perhaps  that  may  have 
accounted  for  the  tired  look  in  the  pair  of  eyes 
which  lay  staring  upwards  when  the  dawn  came, 
and  into  which  another  pair  of  eyes,  very  large  and 
very  black,  looked  hungrily.  If  one  so  young,  so 
very  young,  as  Miggs's  Julia  undoubtedly  was  on 
this  morning  of  its  coming,  could  comprehend  its 
surroundings,  then  it  must  have  understood  that  it 
was  a  very  unfortunate,  if  not  a  criminal,  thing  for 
it  to  have  come  at  all.  There  can  be  no  doubt  but 
that  it  so  comprehended,  and  that  it  so  understood. 
There  was  certainly  an  expression  on  the  blue  and 
pinched  face  signifying  that  a  mistake  had  been 
made,  but  that  it  was  too  helpless,  if  not  too  indif- 
ferent, to  correct  it. 

It  was  not  a  strong  child.  Mrs.  Miggs  said  this 
over  and  over  again ;  while  Mr.  Miggs,  although  not 
equally  frank,  still  made  no  denial  of  this  state  of 
the  child's  physical  condition. 


MIGGS  S    JULIA, 


It  certainly  was  not  a  strong  child.  Neither  was 
it  a  nervous  child.  Day  passed  into  night,  and 
emerged  again,  as  is  its  habit  with  every  revolution 
of  the  earth  ;  but  it  brought  no  change  to  Miggs's 
Julia :  and  it  may  be  questioned  if  the  puny,  silent 
child  took  any  note  of  the  fact  whatever.  It  lay 
on  its  back  in  the  crib,  with  one  very  blue,  and  very 
thin,  and  very  tiny  hand  clinched,  and  its  eyes  star- 
ing helplessly  upward,  as  if  in  a  chronic  state  of 
apology.  It  was  not  a  healthy  child,  and  not,  by 
any  stretch  of  the  imagination,  a  handsome  child  : 
but  the  Miggses  never  spoke  of  these  things  ;  and 
perhaps  they  did  not  notice  them.  They  called  her 
Julia  in  deference  to  the  aunt  with  the  ponderous 
overshoes,  who  visited  the  Miggses  in  state  two 
years  ago,  a  report  of  which  was  faithfully  rendered 
in  these  columns  at  the  time.  That  was  the  name 
given  to  the  blue-faced  baby  ;  and  by  it,  in  full,  it 
was  called.  It  was  such  an  old  baby,  such  a  tired, 
unimpressible  baby,  that  no  one  thought  of  abbre- 
viating Julia  into  any  thing  childish  and  frivolous. 
The  awful  solemnity  of  the  pinched  face  precluded 
any  such  liberty.  And  so  all  in  the  family  called 
it  Julia,  round  and  full,  but  very  tender. 

Last  Thursday  morning,  Mrs.  Ronton  was  mix- 
ing bread  again,  with  a  mark  of  flour  on  her  nose, 
when  Mrs.  Melville  came  in,  and  immediately  said, 
with  an  effort  to  suppress  herself  which  was  quite 
evident,  — 


MR.    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 


"  Have  you  heard  the  news  ? " 

"  No.     What  is  it } " 

"  That  baby  of  Miggs's  is  dead." 

"What!" 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Melville,  complacently  smooth- 
ing the  front  of  her  dress.  "  It  died  this  morning. 
It  was  only  real  sick  for  two  or  three  days  ;  but 
then  it  never  did  amount  to  any  thing,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Mrs.  Ronton. 

"  And  it's  a  mercy  it's  gone,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Melville  in  the  same  complacent  way.  "  They 
couldn't  have  brought  it  up  as  it  ought  to  be ;  and 
it's  a  thousand  times  better  off  where  it  is." 

"I  suppose  Mrs.  Miggs  feels  badly  about  it," 
suggested  Mrs.  Ronton  after  a  pause. 

"I  don't  see  how  she  can,"  somewhat  hastily 
maintained  Mrs.  Melville  :  "  she's  got  a  whole  raft 
of  children  now,  and  has  to  pinch  from  morning  to 
night  to  get  them  half  clothed  and  fed.  She  ought 
to  be  thankful  that  this  one  is  gone  where  it  won't 
suffer  any  more." 

Do  you  hear  that,  Matilda  Miggs  .-•  You  ought 
to  be  thankful  that  your  baby  is  gone,  and  to  real- 
ize that  it  IS  a  mercy  that  it  is  gone.  That's  what 
you  ought  to  be ;  but  you  don't  look  much  like  it, 
crouched  up  in  a  corner  on  the  floor  like  a  stricken 
beast,  with  your  great  eyes  staring  agonizingly  at 
the    clinched    white    hand    and    the    pinched   face 


MIGGSS    JULIA. 


looking  upward  from  the  crib.  Ah,  Matilda  Miggs  ! 
there  are  a  score  of  neighbors  far  better  informed 
than  you  are,  who  can  tell  you,  and  are  anxious  to 
tell  you,  that  you  ought  to  be  thankful  that  the 
little  clinched  hand  is  a  dead  hand,  and  that  the 
white  face  now  set  heavenward  forever  is  a  dead 
face.  Never  again  will  the  tiny  fingers  loosen  to 
pass  softly  over  your  face  ;  never  again  will  the 
closed  eyes  open  to  look  wonderingly  into  yours : 
but  you  are  not  thankful  for  this.  If  you  were  in 
the  least  bit  grateful,  you  would  not  crouch  down 
there  in  the  corner.  Are  you  always  going  to 
remain  there  .-*  Are  you  always  going  to  stare  like 
that  .-*  Won't  you  cry  out  .-'  Won't  you  unclinch 
your  hands  .''  Don't  you  see  that  you  are  disturb- 
ing and  distressing  those  who  come  and  look  into 
the  crib,  and  go  again,  by  your  stony  eyes  and  your 
ghastly  face .-' 

Don't  you  know  that  you  are  flying  into  the  very 
face  of  society,  and  the  very  best  society  at  that  ? 

And  you,  John  Miggs,  with  your  great  hulk  of  a 
frame,  and  white  eyes  that  stare  at  every  thing,  and 
see  nothing,  standing  at  the  back  of  the  house, 
and  chewing  things,  and  spitting  them  out  again, 
and  kicking  things  you  can't  chew,  —  you  are  far 
from  lodking  grateful,  however  grateful  you  may 
feel.  Don't  you  hear  what  society  says  to  you  .' 
You  ought  to  be  grateful  that  the  white  face  is 
staring  no  more  at  your  ceiling,  that  the  tired  eyes 


MR.    MIGGS     OF    DANBURY. 


are  no  more  looking  for  bread,  and  that  the  pitiful 
mouth  has  grown  close  in  death,  and  will  never 
open  again  for  you  to  fill  it,  —  never  again.  Look 
up  at  the  heavens,  John  Miggs,  and  see  how  ragged 
are  the  clouds  which  cover  them.  Look  all  about 
you  over  the  earth  with  its  decay,  and  its  filth  and 
debris,  and  bareness  and  rust,  and  then  look  upon 
yourself  and  your  home,  and  see  poverty  and 
struggling  everywhere.  Ain't  you  glad  that  the 
pinched  face  is  a  dead  face  ?  If  you  ain't  glad, 
you  are  a  foe  to  society,  and  as  much  of  an  animal 
as  the  woman  with  the  stricken  face  and  the  de- 
spairing eyes. 

And  as  for  you.  Tommy  Miggs,  grov^elling  on  the 
dirty  slabs  of  the  shed-floor,  there  is  some  excuse 
for  you,  because  you  are  young.  But  even  yo2i,  have 
felt  the  grip  of  your  lifetime  foe ;  and  even  you 
ought  to  get  up  on  your  feet,  and  take  the  patched 
arms  from  over  the  aching  head,  and  choke  back 
that  nameless  feeling  in  your  breast  which  makes 
your  throat  dry  and  your  eyes  lustreless,  and  try 
to  look  glad. 

And  there  is  the  "  whole  raft "  of  Miggses, 
knuckling  their  aching  eyes  with  their  rebellious 
fists,  and  crying  silently  in  darkened  corners  for 
the  baby-face  with  its  tired  look  and  its  pitiful  eyes 
to  come  back  to  them. 

There  is  not  a  spark  of  gratitude  in  all  that 
house,  —  not  one  single  spark  of  gratitude.  It  is 
awful. 


A    PATRIOTS     IGNOBLE    REPULSE. 


A    PATRIOT'S    IGNOBLE    REPULSE. 

He  was  a  stranger  to  Danbury,  and  somewhat 
inebriated,  we  are  sorry  to  say.  Where  he  came 
from,  and  where  he  was  going,  were  facts  that  did 
not  transpire  while  he  was  among  us.  His  first  ap- 
pearance was  in  the  bank.  There  was  an  old  gen- 
tleman at  the  patrons'  desk,  laboriously  indorsing 
a  check.  The  stranger  went  up  to  him,  and  slapped 
him  on  the  back  without  ostentation.  The  old 
gentleman's  pen  was  just  in  the  act  of  completing 
the  tour  of  the  letter  Z.  The  jar  sent  it  up  to  the 
north-west  corner  of  the  paper,  and  thence  drove  it 
into  the  desk.  The  writer  turned  about  in  unmiti- 
gated astonishment. 

"What  do  you  want,  sir  .^  "  he  demanded,  with 
his  spectacles  reeling  around  on  the  end  of  his 
nose  from  the  effect  of  the  shock. 

"  I  come  to  see  you  about  Taylor,"  said  the 
stranger. 

"  Taylor  .'     What  Taylor  }  " 

"  Zach.,  of  course  ;  President,  you  know,"  ex- 
plained the  stranger  with  an  agreeable  smile. 
"  Lays  down  there  now  ;  not  a  stone  to  mark  his 
grave,  by  Jinks  !  "  and  the  stranger's  face  suddenly 
grew  serious. 

"  What  do  I  know  about  that } "  said  the  old 
gentleman,  grabbing  up  the  pen. 

"  Ain't    you    going  to  do  any  thing  about  it  ?  " 


8  MR.     MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

demanded  the  stranger,  catching  hold  of  the  desk 
to  steady  himself. 

"  Go  way  !  you're  drunk  !  "  pettishly  exclaimed 
the  old  gentleman,  discovering  this  and  the  horrid 
scratch  on  the  check  both  at  the  same  time. 

"  Drunk  yourself,  you  ole  fool ! "  retorted  Mr. 
Taylor's  friend,  looking  about  for  the  man  who 
stood  back  of  the  counter  when  he  came  in.  Not 
seeing  him,  however,  he  gave  the  old  gentleman  a 
cordial  invitation  to  go  soak  himself,  and  departed. 
The  moment  he  got  outside  of  the  door,  the 
cashier  of  the  bank  appeared  from  under  the 
counter,  and  gazed  absently  at  the  ceiling. 

The  stranger  next  went  into  Morrill's  toy-store. 
Mr.  Morrill,  who  is  a  thin,  tall  person,  was  endeav- 
oring to  sell  a  lady  a  horse  and  wagon  artistically 
constructed  of  tin,  and  elaborately  colored. 

"Good-afternoon,"  said  he  with  a  merchant's 
seductive  smile. 

"  How  are  ye  .-* "  responded  the  stranger.  "  Are 
you  the  proprietor  ?  " 

"  I  am." 

"  Glad  to  see  you.  Will  you  just  step  one  side 
a  moment .''    I  want  to  see  you  on  special  business." 

Mr.  Morrill  took  the  new-comer  to  the  end  of 
the  room,  and  then  looked  anxiously  at  him, 

"  You  are  nicely  fixed  here,  I  imagine,"  said  the 
stranger,  peering  around.  "  Dolls  with  yaller  hair, 
painted  dogs,  primers,  tops,  etcettery.      Did  you 


A    PATRIOTS     IGNOBLE    REPULSE.  9 

ever  think,"  he  suddenly  added,  "  that  while  you 
stood  in  the  midst  of  all  this  glitter,  like  a  god  in  a 
barrel  of  ice-cream,  the  grave  of  Pres.  Taylor  has 
no  stone  to  mark  the  spot  ?  " 

"  You'll  excuse  me,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Morrill,  ner- 
vously glancing  toward  the  waiting  lady  ;  "  but  you 
spoke  of  a  matter  of  importance." 

"  Ain't  it  a  matter  of  importance  that  the  grave 
of  the  illustrious  dead  should  be  hid  away  under 
weeds  like  a  bag  of  stolen  apples  .''  " 

"  I  know,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Morrill  soothingly.  "  But 
you  see  I'm  very  busy  just  at  present ;  and  while  I 
naturally  feel  a  deep  interest  in  Mr.  Taylor's  affairs, 
still  there's  a  lady  here  to  purchase  a  horse  and 
wagon." 

"  Of  course  you  are  a  man  of  feeling,"  gracefully 
complied  the  stranger.  "Just  gimme  ten  cents, 
and  I'll  see  that  Zach.  Taylor  has  an  obelisk  over 
his  mound  before  night." 

"  You'll  have  to  excuse  me  ;  "  and  Mr.  Morrill 
moved  back  to  the  lady. 

"Ain't  you  goin'  to  give  me  ten  cents,  you  old 
shrimp  .^"  demanded  the  stranger  with  an  uncom- 
fortable rise  to  his  voice. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  gasped  the  mortified  and 
greatly  astonished  merchant. 

"  I  want  ten  cents  for  the  illustrious  dead," 
yelled  Mr.  Taylor's  friend. 

"  You  go  out  of  this  store,  or  I'll  put  you  out," 
threatened  Mr.  Morrill. 


MR.     MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 


"  You'll  put  me  out,  will  you,  old  flat-stomach  ?  " 
derisively  snorted  the  stranger.  "  You'll  pick  me 
right  up  an'  drop  me  in  the  gutter,  I  suppose,  you 
old  lath,  and  the  grave  of  a  president  as  bald  as 
your  skull.  Gimme  ten  cents,  I  say,  or  I'll  cut  off 
your  ears,  and  shove  you  under  the  door." 

Mr.  Morrill  was  struck  dumb  with  horror. 

"  By  Godfrey  !"  suddenly  ejaculated  the  stranger, 
smiting  his  forehead  in  a  paroxysm  of  grief,  "  to 
think  of  Zach.  Taylor  down  there  waiting  for  an 
obelisk,  —  a  httle  tiny  obelisk,  —  and  his  only  au- 
thorized agent  snapped  up  by  two  quarts  of  bones 
in  a  borrowed  suit  of  clothes !  I  won't  stay  in  a 
town  like  this.  I  won't  stay  a  minute  longer.  I 
shall  go  back  of  some  freight-house  and  break  my 
heart,  and  be  laid  away  with  laurel  and  spices." 

And  he  straightway  departed.  An  hour  later  he 
was  sitting  on  a  plank  in  the  lock-up,  waiting  for  a 
freight-house  and  laurel  and  spices  to  come  along. 


THE     SYMPATHIZING     STRANGER. 

An  elderly  man  with  peaked  features,  large 
watery  eyes,  and  an  attire  of  dilapidated  respecta- 
bility, called  at  a  Danbury  house  last  Friday  morn- 
ing for  a  "lunch."  He  said  he  was  travelling  from 
iioston   to   Buffalo,  at   which   latter  place  he  had 


THE    SYMPATHIZING    STRANGER.  II 

great  expectations.  He  sat  down  at  the  kitchen- 
table,  with  his  long  legs  coiled  up  under  it,  and  his 
long  arms  spread  out  upon  it,  while  his  ponderous 
nose  stood  out  like  a  grease-spot  on  a  pair  of  white 
pants. 

The  woman  of  the  house  brought  him  a  plate  of 
bread  and  meat,  and  a  bowl  of  coffee.  While  she 
was  placing  the  things,  he  noticed  that  she  wore  a 
black  dress,  and  a  look  of  pallor. 

"  Had  a  death,  madam  .''  "  he  softly  inquired  as 
he  squared  himself  for  the  repast. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Lately  ?  " 

"  Last  Tuesday,"  she  answered  faintly. 

"  I  was  sure  of  it.  Father  ?  mother  ?  sister .'' 
brother  .-* "  he  asked,  taking  up  a  piece  of  meat 
with  one  hand,  and  slapping  it  appetitely  upon  a 
piece  of  bread  in  the  other. 

"  My  husband,  sir,"  she  said,  drawing  out  a 
handkerchief,  while  her  lips  quivered.  She  looked 
so  white  and  sad  and  drooping  as  she  sat  there, 
that  his  heart  was  touched. 

"  Did  he  die  a  natural  death  ?  "  he  asked,  softly 
chewing  on  the  food,  and  bending  the  full  glance 
of  his  large  eyes  upon  her. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  It's  a  bad  thing  in  one  so  young  as  you  to  lose 
her  protector.  But  he  died  a  natural  death ;  and 
there  is  comfort    in    that."     He    slapped    another 


12  MR.     MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 


piece  of  meat  upon  another  piece  of  bread,  and 
quietly  put  his  teeth  through  them. 

"  You  know,"  he  presently  added,  revolving  the 
morsel  in  his  mouth,  and  assuming  an  appearance 
of  delicate  cheerfulness,  "  that  he  died  calmly,  with 
every  want  attended  to,  and  loving  hands  to  ad- 
minister to  him.  Could  I  trouble  you  for  a  little 
mustard  ?  "  She  weariedly  arose,  and  got  him  the 
article.  "  There's  comfort  in  that,  isn't  there  ?  " 
he  continued,  referring  to  the  passing-away  of  the 
deceased. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  in  a  low  tone,  wiping  her  eyes. 

"  Now  you  know,"  he  said,  looking  intently  at 
her  with  his  eyes,  while  his  hands  spread  the  mus- 
tard, "  it  might  have  been  much  different  and  far 
worse.  He  might  have  been  run  over  by  a  train 
of  coal-cars,  and  cut  into  pound  lumps  stuck  full 
of  gravel .'' " 

"  I  know,"  said  she  with  a  shiver. 

"  Then,  again,  he  might  have  been  blown  up  in  a 
defective  sawmill,"  said  the  stranger,  taking  another 
bite  of  the  food,  and  gently  closing  his  eyes,  as  if 
the  better  to  picture  the  irredeemable  horror  of 
this  proposition,  "and  only  about  two-thirds  of  him, 
and  that  badly  damaged,  ever  returned  to  your 
agonized  sight." 

A  low  sob  behind  the  handkerchief  was  the  only 
response,  while  he  opened  his  eyes  in  time  to  de- 
tect a  fly  making  extraordinary  efforts  to  shake  its 


THE    SYMPATHIZING     STRANGER.  13 

hind-legs  free  from  the  mustard.  Coming  mechani- 
cally to  the  assistance  of  the  insect,  he  said, — 

"  It  is  bad  enough  to  lose  him,  I'll  admit  that. 
No  one  would  be  so  calloused  as  to  deny  that,"  he 
said,  looking  around  inquiringly,  as  if  to  make  quite 
sure  that  no  such  a  party  was  in  sight.  "  Still  it 
could  have  been  much  worse,  you  know.  He  might 
have  been  prematurely  perforated  with  the  ramrod 
of  a  cannon,  and  had  to  have  had  chloroform  in- 
jected in  him  at  an  expense  of  twenty-five  dollars 
a  day.  This  would  have  been  dreadful.  Rut  if 
he'd  fallen  into  a  vat  of  hot  oil,  and  had  all  his  flesh 
peeled  off,  you'd  never  got  over  it,  would  you  .-' " 

"  No,  sir,"  said  she,  burying  her  face  still  deeper 
in  her  handkerchief. 

"  Oh  !  there  are  a  hundred  ways  he  might  have 
died,"  he  went  on,  taking  a  sweep  with  the  knife  at 
a  fly,  in  the  exuberance  of  his  delight  that  things 
were  as  they  were,  instead  of  as  they  might  have 
been.  "  He  might  have  perished  in  a  fire,  and  been 
dug  out  of  the  ruins  the  next  day  with  a  pickaxe. 
He  might  have  fallen  off  a  two-story  building,  and 
struck  on  his  face,  and  had  to  have  gone  through 
the  funeral  on  his  stomach,  with  weeping  friends 
pressing  the  last  fond  kiss  on  the  back  of  his 
head." 

Here  the  narrator  shuddered  himself  at  the 
awful  prospect  of  such  a  catastrophe,  while  the 
bereaved  woman  agonizingly  protested  against  his 
proceeding. 


14  MR.     MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

"  You'll  admit  it  might  have  been  worse  ? "  he 
asked  with  undisguised  anxiety. 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir !  "  she  replied,  wiping  her  eyes. 

"  I'm  glad  of  that,"  said  he,  exploring  his  under 
jaw  with  the  fork.  "  Afflictions  will  come  ;  but  if 
we  try  to  think  of  those  which  are  greater  that 
have  not  come  to  us,  then  we  are  better  able  to 
bear  those  that  do.  It's  been  my  object  to  teach 
you  that  a  natural  death  is  not  a  thing  to  despise 
in  these  times  of  rush,  crash,  and  sputter ;  and,  if 
you  have  learned  the  lesson,  my  mission  is  accom- 
plished, and  I  go  my  way.  I  don't  want  to  intrude, 
of  course,  on  the  privacy  of  a  deep  grief  ;  but  if  the 
deceased  was  about  my  build,  and  left  behind  a 
vest  not  too  gaudy  in  pattern,  I  should  be  pleased 
to  take  it  along  with  me  as  a  souvenir  of  departed 
worth."  He  paused  an  instant,  and  then  added 
with  touching  solemnity,  "These  were  Jiis  victuals; 
and  it  would  seem  appropriate  as  well  as  beautiful 
to  have  them  held  in  by  his  vestures." 

When  he  went  away,  he  had  as  a  souvenir  of 
departed  worth  something  he  could  pull  down  if 
required  so  to  do. 


AN     ACCOMMODATING     REPORTER. 

If  there  is  a  vacancy  in  the  reportorial  depart- 
ment of  any  of  our  contemporaries,  we  know  of  a 


AN    ACCOMMODATING     REPORTER.  15 


party  who  can  fill  it,  although  we  do  not  know  the 
party's  present  address.  He  came  to  Danbury  two 
weeks  ago  to  report  happenings  for  the  local  edi- 
tion of  "  The  News,"  and  proved  to  be  an  unusually 
acceptable  man  for  the  place.  He  was  a  pale-faced 
young  man,  of  strong  nervous  force,  but  a  calm 
exterior.  The  expression  of  his  features  was  of 
that  peculiar  kind  which  implied  either  purity  of 
purpose,  or  impurity  of  liver.  He  had  been  here 
two  weeks.  He  was  sitting  alone  in  the  editorial 
room  last  Friday,  when  a  knock  at  the  door  sum- 
moned him.  He  opened  it,  and  let  in  an  elderly 
lady  of  fleshy  mien,  who  had  been  so  cut  in  breath 
by  getting  up  the  stairs,  that  she  could  say  nothing 
until  she  had  taken  a  seat. 

"  Is  the  editor  in  ?  "  she  finally  asked. 

"  No,  ma'am,"  replied  the  reporter  with  his  defer- 
ential look.  He  stood  near  her,  with  one  hand 
resting  on  the  back  of  a  chair,  with  an  expression 
of  tender  attentiveness  on  his  face. 

It  may  be  well  to  explain  here,  that  Danbury 
contains  more  fast  horses  than  any  town  of  its  size 
in  the  world  ;  and,  in  consequence,  fast  driving  and 
accidents  are  of  daily  occurrence.  "The  News" 
is  located  in  that  part  of  Main  Street  where  it  sud- 
denly sprawls  out  as  if  to  make  a  square,  but  unex- 
pectedly changes  its  mind  and  comes  back  again. 
At  this  point,  swift  flying  teams  are  constantly 
passing. 


l6  MR.     MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

"  I'm  sorry  for  that,"  observed  the  old  lady,  speak- 
ing slowly  because  of  the  trouble  with  her  breath, 
"  because  I  wanted  to  see  him  very  much.  An' 
then  I  had  such  a  time  to  get  across  the  street  for 
the  teams !  I  declare,  I  never  saw  such  driving  in 
all  my  life.  I  should  think  your  authorities  here 
would  put  a  stop  to  it." 

"  They  try  to,"  said  the  reporter ;  "  but  it  is  no 
use.     Are  you  acquainted  with  Mr.  Bailey  .'' " 

"  Land,  no  !  I  never  saw  him,  an'  that's  the  rea- 
son I  come  in.  I  live  in  Ohio,  and  am  visiting  a 
friend  in  Brookfield  ;  an'  I  thought,  as  I  was  so  near 
Danbury,  I  would  come  here  an'  see  him.  But  it 
'pears  I  have  had  all  my  trouble  for  nothing." 

"  I  am  real  sorry,"  said  the  new  man,  his  face 
singularly  brightening  as  he  spoke.  "  But  he  don't 
come  here  very  often.     Age  is  telling  on  him." 

"  He  is  old,  then,  is  he .'' "  said  the  old  lady. 
"  Well,  I  might  ha'  knowed  it.  But  how  does  he 
get  across  this  street,  with  all  the  teams  a-coming 
as  they  do .''  I  should  think  he  would  be  run  over 
and  killed." 

"  Well,  I  don't  wonder  you  think  so.  Everybody 
expresses  the  same  surprise.  And  it  is  wonderful. 
By  Jove,  madam  ! "  continued  the  young  man,  his 
pale  face  lighting  up  with  a  glow  of  animation, 
"  you  would  be  astonished  to  see  the  old  gentleman 
come  across  that  street.  He  comes  down  that 
street  there  "  (pointing  up  White  Street,  opposite) ; 


AN    ACCOM.M.ODATING    REPORTER.  If 

"  and,  when  he  gets  to  the  corner,  he  stops  and 
looks  as  carefully  and  intelligently  across  the  road 
as  you  could  wish  anybody  to  do  it.  Then  he  takes 
off  his  wig,  and  wraps  it  up  in  paper,  and  puts  it 
down  the  leg  of  one  of  his  boots  "  — 

"  Well,  1  declare  ! "  broke  in  the  old  lady.  "  He 
wears  a  wig  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes !  The  salt-rheum  carried  off  every 
hair  from  his  head,  which  is  as  bare  as  a  door-knob. 
Then  he  takes  out  his  teeth  —  two  plates  "  — 

"  Mercy  sakes  !  "  cried  the  listener.  "  No  teeth, 
nuther  ? " 

"  Not  of  his  own,  ma'am.  Took  so  much  sulphur 
for  the  salt-rheum,  that  it  carromed  on  every  tooth 
in  his  head,  and  left  his  mouth  as  smooth  as  a  new 
culvert.  Then  he  takes  out  his  teeth,  and  puts 
them  down  the  other  boot-leg,  and  watches  for  his 
opportunity.  Pretty  soon  he  sees  an  opening,  and 
then  he  just  bends  down  his  head  like  this  "  (suit- 
ing the  action  to  the  words),  "  and  goes  kiting 
across,  throwing  both  hands  over  his  head,  and 
yowling  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  '  Looh  haw  !  Looh 
haw  ! '  " 

"  Mercy  sakes  !  "  gasped  the  old  lady  in  aston- 
ishment.    "  What  does  that  mean  .-' " 

"  What,  ma'am  .?  " 

"Looh  haw." 

"  Oh,  that  would  be  '  Look  out ! '  if  it  had  teeth  in 
it ;  but  his  teeth  are  in  his  boot-leg,  you  know.    Just 


MR.    MIGGS    OF     DANBURY. 


as  he  reaches  this  side,  two  men  appointed  for  that 
purpose  catch  him  in  a  quilt,  and  carry  him  right 
up  here,  because  the  exertion  exhausts  him  so  that 
he  has  no  hfe.  Then  we  rub  him,  and. put  in  his 
teeth,  and  slap  on  his  hair,  and  fix  him  against  the 
desk,  and  he  goes  right  to  work  as  natural  as  any- 
body." 

"  Well,  I  declare,  it  is  wonderful  !  "  observed  the 
old  lady.  "  How  I  would  like  to  see  the  old  gen- 
tleman !  But  I  can't  stay.  Please  give  him  my 
best  regards." 

"  I  will,  ma'am,"  said  the  pale  young  man. 

"  Good-day,  sir.     I  am  much  obliged  to  you." 

"  Not  at  all,  ma'am.  Good-day."  And  she  was 
bowed  out. 

■  He  left  Danbury  shortly  after  —  on  foot.  He 
wouldn't  wait  for  the  cars.  He  said  he  might  as 
well  be  walking  as  standing  up  in  a  car. 


We  never  can  tell  exactly  where  we  lose  our 
umbrellas.  It  is  singular  how  gently  an  umbrella 
unclasps  itself  from  the  tendrils  of  our  mind,  and 
floats  out  into  the  filmy  distance  of  nothingness. 


BE    CHEERFUL    AT    THE    TABLE.  I9 


BE    CHEERFUL    AT    THE    TABLE. 

"  The  Journal  of  Health  "  says  that  talking 
at  the  table  is  one  of  the  very  best  digesters.  This, 
then,  accounts  for  the  tremendous  appetite  every- 
body has  for  the  Sunday  dinner.  We  never  could 
understand  why,  with  scarcely  any  exercise  on 
Sunday,  the  dinner  of  that  day  should  be  heartier 
and  more  anxiously  sought  for  by  the  diner  than 
any  other  dinner.  Many  real  good  Christian  peo- 
ple will  sacrifice  Sunday  school,  where  it  is  a  noon 
session,  in  order  to  get  home  for  something  to  eat. 
Although  the  breakfast  has  been  later  than  any 
other  of  the  week,  still  noon  brings  a  most  raven- 
ous appetite.  But  it  is  all  explained  now.  Talk- 
ing at  table  does  it.  Everybody  knows  that  the 
Sunday  breakfast  is  the  longest  on  the  floor,  and  is 
more  talked  over  than  any  breakfast  of  the  week. 
This  is  the  way  it  comes  about.  The  children  are 
to  be  got  up,  and  got  ready  for  church.  It  is  im- 
material how  long  people  have  been  married :  the 
woman  always  gets  the  breakfast  ready  as  soon  as 
she  has  called  the  children.  They  don't  come,  as  a 
general  thing,  when  they  are  called ;  but  no  woman 
allows  this  to  influence  her  actions.  She  gets  the 
breakfast  just  as  punctually  as  if  she  had  never  had 
to  wait  an  hour  or  so  for  a  dilatory  family.  This  is 
the  grandest  illustration  of  the  sublime  faith  of 
woman  to  be  found  on   record.     With  one   or  two 


MR.    MIGGS    OF     DANBURY. 


of  the  older  children  about  her,  she  sits  down  to 
the  meal.  The  surroundings  of  the  breakfast 
would  make  it  a  repast  of  lead,  were  it  not  for  the 
conversation,  which  flows  smoothly  on.  And  the 
great  variety  of  subjects  discussed  is  an  important 
element  in  the  development  of  the  gastric  juices. 
There's  her  husband,  who,  seeing  the  breakfast 
about  ready,  thoughtfully  arranges  his  shaving 
articles,  and  falls  to  lathering  his  face  just  as  he  is 
called  to  the  table.  It  occurs  to  him  that  there 
should  be  some  explanation  of  why  the  meal  is 
always  brought  on  just  as  he  gets  to  shaving  ;  and 
he  demands  it.  Then  she  wants  to  know  why 
people  will  persist  in  shaving  when  they  know  the 
breakfast  is  right  before  them.  Thus  is  one  sub- 
ject disposed  of.  Then  there  is  the  boy  who  is 
bound  to  have  two  cups  of  coffee.  He  has  to  be 
met  on  the  very  first  opening  of  the  rebellion. 

"  You  sha'n't  have  another  cup  of  coffee.  One 
cup  is  enough  for  you.  You  are  so  nervous  now, 
there's  no  living  with  you." 

"  I  want  it,  I  tell  you." 

"  And  I  tell  you  you  sha'n't  have  it." 

"  I  will  have  it." 

"  What's  that,  sir .?  " 

No  response. 

"  Don't  you  never  let  me  hear  you  talk  like  that 
again,  sir,  or  I'll  give  you  something  that'll  make 
your  tongue  civil." 


BE  CHEERFUL  AT  THE  TABLE,       21 

There's  the  other  boy,  who  perceives  that  there 
IS  not  sugar  enough  in  his  cup,  and  hits  upon  the 
bold  expedient  of  declaring  that  there  has  been  no 
sugar  put  in  at  all. 

"  I  know  better.  You  stir  it  up,  and  you'll  find 
it  sweet  enough." 

"  But  I  am  stirring  it  up  ;  an'  there  ain't  no 
sugar  in  it  at  all." 

"  There's  all  you'll  get ;  and  you  can  drink  it,  or 
leave  it  alone.  I've  got  something  else  to  do 
besides  doctoring  you  for  worms." 

Then  the  father  sits  down,  and  is  being  helped, 
when  another  child  comes  in,  and,  seeing  his  moth- 
er occupied,  backs  up  to  her  to  have  his  apron  but- 
toned. 

The  temerity  of  this  proceeding,  although  some- 
where near  its  thousandth  performance,  never  be- 
comes sufficiently  familiar  to  be  understood  by  the 
mother ;  and  she  hastily  observes,  — 

"  Get  away  from  here  :  don't  you  see  I'm  busy  ? " 

The  child  sniffles. 
*  "  Shut  up  that  yawp,  or  I'll  give  you  something 
to  sniffle  for,"  volunteers  the  father. 

"  Why  don't  you  snap  the  young  one's  head  off, 
and  be  done  with  it .-' "  retorts  the  mother,  dropping 
her  occupation  to  attend  to  the  apron. 

The  father  stares  morosely  around  the  table.  A 
moment  of  silence  succeeds.  Then,  the  mother's 
affectionate  eye  catching  the  vacant  expression  on 


22  MR.    MIGGS    OF     DANBURY. 

the  face  of  the  oldest  boy,  —  who  has  a  piece  of 
bread  poised  uncertainly  in  the  air,  and  is  evidently 
allowing  his  mind  to  stray  beyond  the  home-circle, 
—  she  observes,  — 

"  Come  now,  stupid  !  finish  your  breakfast,  and 
get  ready  for  church  ;  and  don't  sit  here  gorman- 
dizing all  the  forenoon." 

He  returns  to  business  at  once,  and  another 
pause  follows.     Then  comes  the  following  :  — 

"  Take  your  fingers  out  of  that  dish  ! " 

"  Stop  mussing  !  " 

"  Where's  your  collar  ?  " 

"  Have  you  washed  back  of  your  ears  ? " 

"  Why  on  earth  don't  you  sit  up  straight.''  " 

"I'll  box  your  ears  till  they  ring  if  you  drop 
another  thing  on  that  floor." 

"  Get  out  of  that  butter  !  " 

"  Stop  muxin'  that  bread  !  One  would  think 
you  were  a  drove  of  young  hogs  to  see  you  at  the 
table." 

"  Come,  now,  get  right  away  from  this  table ! 
You've  eaten  enough  for  twenty  people.  I  shan't 
have  you  muxing  and  gauming  up  the  victuals. 
Clear  out,  I  tell  you,  and  get  your  Sunday-school 
lessons  ! " 

Appropriate  responses  being  made  to  these  ob- 
servations by  the  parties  addressed,  the  family 
adjourn  from  the  table,  to  meet  again  at  dinner 
with  rousing  appetites. 


A    GREAT    GRIEF,  23 

Let's    have   more  conversation  at  meals,  if    we 
wish  to  enjoy  perfect  digestion. 


A    GREAT    GRIEF. 

Dear  reader,  here  is  an  occurrence  common  all 
over  this  broad  land,  but  which  the  public  knows 
nought  of.  Scene,  a  lighted  room.  Comfortably 
seated  at  the  table  is  a  man  with  a  careworn  face, 
on  which  are  strangely  blended  the  emotions  of 
relief  and  apprehension.  He  settles  far  back  in 
his  chair.  He  opens  a  newspaper  ;  and,  after  a  cur- 
sory glance  over  it  as  a  whole,  he  tlirns  out  the 
local  page,  and,  commencing  at  the  first  column, 
reads  carefully  down.  There  is  a  dead  silence  in 
the  room.  Nought  but  an  occasional  slight  move- 
ment of  the  paper  is  heard.  The  man  still  reads. 
He  is  all  absorbed  in  the  performance.  Suddenly 
the  face,  which  has  become  inexpressive,  winces. 
Pretty  soon  there  is  another  wince,  accompanied  by 
either  a  decrease  or  increase  of  color.  Nervously 
he  begins  the  next  column,  and  goes  down  it  more 
hastily  than  the  preceding.  He  reaches  the  bottom 
with  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  attacks  the  third  with 
a  trifle  less  nervousness  and  much  less  expression. 
Suddenly  he  clutches  the  paper  with  a  tighter 
grasp,  as  if  to  save  himself  from  falling,  and  utters 


24  MR.    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

an  agonizing  exclamation  It  is  some  five  min- 
utes before  he  can  resume  the  reading.  Now  he  is 
in  the  last  column,  and  is  perusing  the  marriages. 
He  reaches  the  last  one.  It  gi\'es  the  right  name 
of  the  groom  and  bride.  There  is  a  closing  sen- 
tence made  into  a  separate  paragraph.  It  is  simply 
this :  "  The  remains  will  be  brought  to  this  town 
for  interment."  Then  the  man  in  the  chair  drops 
the  paper  to  the  floor,  catches  both  hands  into  his 
hair  as  if  to  lift  himself  from  the  face  of  the  earth, 
and  utters  a  groan  that  seems  to  come  from  the 
very  depths  of  a  crushed  heart.  There  is  not  a 
soul  to  witness  this  misery,  not  a  tongue  to  speak 
one  word  of  sympathy.  All  alone  with  himself, 
the  wretched  man,  with  white  face  and  flaming 
eyes,  fights  his  great  grief.  No  one  knows  his 
thoughts,  or  ever  will.  It  is  doubtful  if  he  thinks 
at  all.  To  every  appearance  he  is  in  a  stupor  of 
misery,  —  a  stupor  so  great  as  to  deprive  him  of 
reason,  of  every  motion  except  the  spasmodic 
twisting  at  his  hair.  Heaven  help  the  miserable 
wretch !  for  of  all  the  despair  and  desolation  and 
agony  on  this  globe  of  ours  there  is  nothing  to 
equal  this.  The  man  is  a  country  editor ;  and  the 
paper  is  a  copy  of  the  edition  just  issued. 


HENS    AS    A    STUDY.  25 

HENS    AS    A    STUDY.  * 

In  our  last  issue  we  republished  from  an  agri- 
cultural journal  an  article  on  feed  for  hens.  We 
would  like  to  say  here  that  it  is  the  duty  of  jour- 
nals to  publish  all  such  information,  however  perti- 
nent it  may  or  may  not  be.  That's  the  reason  we 
printed  the  piece  in  question.  We  don't  know 
whether  the  writer  knew  what  he  was  about  when 
he  brought  forth  the  article  ;  and  we  don't  care. 
There  was  no  choice  with  us.  We  submissively 
appropriated  it  just  as  we  do  all  those  matters 
which  pertain  to  the  house  and  farm  department. 
But  what  we  started  out  to  do  was  to  protest 
against  recipes  for  making  hens  lay  more  eggs  than 
Nature  designed  they  should.  Not  a  day  passes 
but  somebody  comes  forward  with  a  system  or  diet 
which  he  has  tested  to  his  entire  satisfaction,  and 
which  is  adapted  to  every  breed  and  temper  of  hen 
in  existence.  One  man  gives  his  fowls  oats  alone, 
and  finds  that  they  lay  a  fourth  more  eggs  than 
they  did  when  he  fed  them  exclusively  on  corn. 
This  statement  fires  up  somebody  to  explain  that 
he  didn't  know  what  a  laying  hen  really  was  until 
he  got  to  feeding  his  flock  corn  alone.  Hereto- 
fore he  had  dosed  them  with  oats.  Here's  a  de- 
cided fix  apparently  ;  but  the  next  week  the  owner 
of  a  couple  of  hens  in  Kalamazoo  modestly  states 
in  a  card,  that  years  of  careful  experimenting  has 


MR.    M.IGGS    OF     DANBURY. 


demonstrated  beyond  all  cavil  that  oats  and  corn 
equally  mixed  will  fire  up  the  ambition  of  any  hen 
on  the  face  of  the  earth.  So  they  go  on  in  the 
matter  of  food.  Then  there  is  the  man  who  advises 
lime  and  oyster-shells  to  prevent  the  hens  from 
laying  soft-shelled  eggs.  As  a  hen  lays  about 
two  such  eggs  in  the  course  of  a  year,  a  couple 
of  dollars'  worth  of  lime  judiciously  fed  to  her 
will  prevent  the  loss,  and  be  money  well  expended. 
Then  there  is  the  man  who  advocates  better  ven- 
tilation. Hens  are  mighty  sore  on  the  subject  of 
ventilation,  as  you  may  have  noticed.  Another 
recommends  an  air-tight  roosting-place ;  and  still 
another  advises  shutting  up  the  fowls  all  the  time, 
and  is  immediately  confronted  by  a  poulterer,  who 
says,  that,  if  they  are  not  allowed  to  run  loose,  you 
can't  get  eggs  out  of  them  any  way.  These  things 
are  what  give  agricultural  journals  their  wonderful 
variety.  But  we  protest  against  them.  If  any 
one  understands  a  hen's  business  better  than  the 
hen  itself,  we  are  prepared  to  listen  to  him  ;  but, 
until  such  a  phenomenon  appears,  we  unqualifiedly 
refuse  to  republish  hen  recipes.  A  hen's  stomach 
is  an  appalling  mystery.  Men  who  can  translate 
the  elegies  of  the  most  barbarous  of  ancient 
nations,  and  give  you  the  weight  to  an  ounce  of  a 
square  mile  of  atmosphere,  precipitately  back  down 
from  the  analysis  of  a  hen's  stomach.  An  animal 
that  can  take  down  a  whole  dishcloth  at  one  gulp, 


THE     BOY     WITH     A     PENNY.  27 

and  regret  that  it  wasn't  a  roll  of  stair-carpet,  is 
not  to  be  told  what  it  shall  eat. 


THE    BOY    WITH    A    PENNY. 

There  were  four  of  them  ;  and  they  were  com- 
ing down  Elm  Street.  They  ranged  from  four  to 
six  years  of  age.  Three  of  them  wore  waists ;  and 
the  fourth,  a  jacket.  All  wore  knee-pants  with 
dark-colored  stockings  ;  and  two  of  them  had  cop- 
per-toed shoes.  They  were  holding  hands,  and 
moving  along  at  a  rapid  but  irregular  pace.  It  was 
evident  that  something  of  important  interest  was 
in  prospect  by  the  expectant  eyes  and  flushed 
cheeks  of  the  four.  The  calmest-looking  boy  had 
something  in  his  mouth,  which  may  have  tended 
to  distract  his  attention  from  the  matter  in  hand. 
Whenever  he  was  spoken  to,  which  was  about 
every  thirty  seconds,  the  line  would  halt,  his  right 
hand  would  be  loosened,  and  he  would  straightway 
empty  into  it  from  his  mouth  a  penny.  While  this 
was  being  done,  the  three  other  boys  would  gather 
in  front  of  him,  and  look  upon  the  operation  with 
breathless  interest.  Having  decided  the  point  at 
issue,  the  coin  would  be  restored  with  the  same 
solemn  ceremony,  the  line  would  re-form,  and  move 
forward   at    a    lively  pace,   until  another  question 


28  MR.    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

obtruded  itself  for  immediate  consideration.  The 
boy  with  the  coin  was  the  centre  of  all  observation 
and  consideration  of  the  others.  This  was  plain 
to  be  seen.  And  the  number  of  tree-boxes  and 
posts  and  people  the  line  fetched  up  against,  in  the 
determined  but  hopeless  effort  of  keeping  one  eye 
on  him,  and  the  other  on  the  path  ahead  at  the 
same  time,  would  seem  almost  incredible.  But 
what  mattered  it  ?  It  was  better  that  they  should 
run  against  everybody  else  than  to  lose  sight  of 
him  a  minute.  Oh  the  tender  solicitude  of  these 
hearts  for  him  !  To  ignore  all  the  wonderful  sights 
of  the  busy  street  just  for  the  sake  of  him!  It 
was  wonderful.  When  they  came  to  an  obstruc- 
tion that  could  not  be  butted  over,  they  gave  way 
promptly,  that  he  might  pass  safely.  All  the  dry 
walks  were  surrendered  to  him  without  equivoca- 
tion ;  and  as  for  the  mud  on  the  crosswalks,  they 
ploughed  through  it  with  a  heroism  that  was  de- 
lightful, so  that  he  might  pass  dry-shod.  It  is 
altogether  likely  they  would  have  formed  a  bridge 
with  their  bodies  over  the  most  repulsive  mud,  had 
it  been  necessary  to  secure  him  a  safe  and  pleasant 
transit,  which  fortunately  it  was  not.  But  to  no 
object  of  interest  which  happened  to  catch  their 
gaze  did  they  fail  to  call  his  attention,  and  with  an 
anxiety  that  must  have  been  very  comforting  to 
him.  His  name  was  Jim.  What  their  names 
were,  there  were  no  means  of  finding  out,  as  they 


THE     BOY    WITH    A    PENNY. 


were  not  uttered.  It  would  have  sounded  like  sac- 
rilege, without  doubt,  to  have  mentioned  their  titles 
in  connection  with  his.  What  a  happy  group  they 
were !  How  their  little  feet  pattered,  and  their 
little  legs  swung  along  !  How  their  faces  glowed  ! 
How  their  eyes  burned !  They  were  new  little 
boys  to  the  street.  Perhaps  the  majority  of  them 
had  not  more  than  once  before  seen  those  stores, 
—  the  bright  stores  with  the  heaps  of  treasure  glit- 
tering through  the  glass.  Perhaps  never  again 
would  they  four  share  this  wonderful,  all-consuming 
ecstasy  together.  Thank  Heaven  they  enjoy  it  so 
hugely  !  Jim  is  down  town  to  spend  a  penny,  a 
whole  penny  all  his  own  ;  and  the  senses  of  every 
one  of  his  companions  is  ravished  as  if  with  the 
glories  of  paradise.  How  their  memories  are 
spurred  up  and  refreshed  as  they  gallop  along ! 
One  little  boy  remembers  that  he  always  helped 
Jim  on  his  lessons  ;  another  has  got  as  clear  and 
distinct  a  remembrance  of  the  time,  two  months 
ago,  when  he  gave  Jim  a  piece  of  rubber  to  chew, 
as  if  the  momentous  event  occurred  only  the  day 
before  ;  and  the  third  has  at  his  tongue's  end  a 
perfectly  comprehensive  account  of  an  occasion 
when  he  let  Jim  look  at  a  boat  he  was  sailing  in 
a  tub,  although  the  event  took  place  in  the  far-dis- 
tant summer.  As  for  Jim  himself,  no  king  with  a 
sceptre,  or  a  god  with  lightnings  in  his  grasp,  for 
the  matter  of  that,  ever  experienced  such  a  weight 


30  MR.    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

of  dignified  and  solemn  grandeur.  It  seemed  as  if 
his  very  clothes  were  wrought  with  diamonds  and 
gold,  and  as  if  his  spine  would  never  desert  its 
perpendicular.  Four  little  boys,  hand  in  hand, 
eager,  expectant,  hopeful,  delirious,  running  at  the 
top  of  their  speed,  and  happier  in  the  anticipation 
of  the  coming  joy  than  if  they  were  lovers  grown, 
with  a  dollar  jewelry-store  on  every  corner. 


This  is  what  may  be  called  a  sample  of  practi- 
cal affection.  True  love  is  not  content  to  bask  in 
the  sunshine  without  an  umbrella  handy  in  case  of 
rain.  The  following  letter  is  a  sample  in  ques- 
tion :  — 

My  dear  Husband,  —  I  got  here  last  night  all  safe, 
and  was  met  at  the  station  by  uncle  and  aunt.  They  were 
so  glad  I  had  come  !  but  were  sorry  that  you  were  not  along. 
I  miss  you  so  much  !  We  had  hot  rolls  for  breakfast  this 
morning,  and  they  were  so  delicious  !  I  want  you  to  be  so 
liappy  while  I  am  here  !  Don't  keep  the  meat  up  stairs  :  it 
will  surely  spoil.     Do  you  miss  me  now  ?     Oh,  if  you  were 

only  here,  if  but  for  one  hour  !     Has  Mrs.  O'R brought 

back  your  shirts  ?  I  hope  the  bosoms  will  suit  you.  You 
will  find  the  milk  tickets  in  the  clock  :  I  forgot  to  tell  you 
aliout  them  when  I  came  away.  What  did  you  do  last  even- 
ing.'' Were  you  lonesome  without  me.''  Don't  forget  to 
scald  the  milk  every  morning.  And  I  wish  you  would  see 
if  I  left  the  potatoes  in  the  pantry :  if  I  did,  they  must  be 
sour  by  this  time.     How  are  you  getting  along  ?     Write  me 


TEMPEST    IN    A    TUB.  31 

all  about  it.     But  I  must  close  now.     Oceans  of  love  to  you. 
Affectionately  your  wife. 

P.S. —  Don't  set  the  teapot  on  the  stove. 


TEMPEST    IN    A    TUB. 

It  was  all  about  a  wash-tub.  Mrs.  Villiers  had 
loaned  Mrs.  Ransom  her  wash-tub.  This  was  two 
weeks  ago  last  Monday.  When  Mrs.  VilHers  saw 
it  again,  which  was  the  next  morning,  it  stood  on 
her  back-stoop,  minus  a  hoop.  Mrs.  VilUers  sent 
over  to  Mrs.  Ransom's,  a  request  for  that  hoop, 
couched  in  language  calculated  to  impugn  Mrs. 
Ransom's  reputation  for  carefulness.  Mrs.  Ransom 
lost  no  time  in  sending  back  word  that  the  tub  was 
all  right  when  it  was  sent  back  ;  and  delicately  in- 
timated that  Mrs.  Villiers  had  better  sweep  before 
her  own  door  first,  whatever  that  might  mean. 
Each  having  discharged  a  Christian  duty  to  each 
other,  further  communication  was  immediately  cut 
off ;  and  the  affair  was  briskly  discussed  by  the 
neighbors,  who  entered  into  the  merits  and  demer- 
its of  the  affair  with  unselfish  zeal.  Heaven  bless 
them  !  Mrs.  Ransom  clearly  explained  her  connec- 
tion with  the  tub  by  charging  Mr.  Villiers  with 
coming  home  drunk  as  a  fiddler  the  night  before 
Christmas.  This  bold  statement  threatened  to 
carry  the  neighbors  over  in   a  body  to  Mrs.  Ran- 


32  MR.     MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

som's  view;  until  Mrs.  Villicrs  remembered,  and 
promptly  chronicled  the  fact,  that  the  Ransoms 
were  obliged  to  move  away  from  their  last  place 
because  of  non-payment  of  rent.  Here  the  matter 
rested  among  the  neighbors,  leaving  them  as  unde- 
cided as  before.  But  between  the  two  families 
immediately  concerned  the  fires  burned  as  luridly 
as  when  first  kindled.  It  was  a  constant  skirmish 
between  the  two  women  from  early  morning  until 
late  at  night.  Mrs.  Ransom  would  glare  through 
her  blinds  when  Mrs.  Villiers  was  in  the  yard,  and 
murmur  between  her  clinched  teeth,  — 

"  Oh,  you  hussy  !  " 

And,  with  that  wondrous  instinct  which  charac- 
terizes the  human  above  the  brute  animal,  Mrs. 
Villiers  understood  that  Mrs.  Ransom  was  thus 
engaged,  and,  lifting  her  nose  at  the  highest  angle 
compatible  with  the  safety  of  her  spinal  cord,  would 
sail  around  the  yard  as  triumphantly  as  if  escorted 
by  a  brigade  of  genuine  princes. 

And  then  would  come  Mrs.  Villiers's  turn  at  the 
window  with  Mrs.  Ransom  in  the  yard,  with  a  like 
satisfactory  and  edifying  result. 

When   company    called    on    Mrs.    Villiers,    Mrs. 
Ransom  would  peer  from  behind  her  curtains,  and . 
audibly  exclaim, — 

"  Who's  that  fright,  I  wonder  ?  " 

And,  when  Mrs.  Ransom  was  favored  with  a  call, 
it  was  Mrs.  Villiers's  blessed  privilege  to  be  at  the 
window,  and  audibly  observe  — 


TEMPEST    IN    A    TUB.  ^^ 

"  Where  was  that  clod  dug  up  from  ?  " 

Mrs.  Ransom  has  a  little  boy  named  Tommy; 
and  Mrs.  Villiers  has  a  similarly  sized  son  who 
struggles  under  the  cognomen  of  Wickliffe  Morgan. 
It  will  happen,  because  these  two  children  are 
too  young  to  grasp  fully  the  grave  responsibilities 
of  life,  —  it  will  happen,  we  repeat,  that  they  will 
come  together  in  various  respects.  If  Mrs.  Ran- 
som is  so  fortunate  as  to  first  observe  one  of  these 
cohesions,  she  promptly  steps  to  the  door,  and,  cov- 
ertly waiting  until  Mrs.  Villiers's  door  opens,  she 
shrilly  observes,  — 

"  Thomas  Jefferson,  come  right  into  this  house 
this  minit !  How  many  times  have  I  told  you  to 
keep  away  from  that  Villiers  brat } " 

"  Villiers  brat  I  "  What  a  stab  that  is  !  What 
subtle  poison  it  is  saturated  with  !  Poor  Mrs.  Vil- 
liers's breath  comes  thick  and  hard  ;  her  face  burns 
like  fire  ;  and  her  eyes  almost  snap  out  of  her  head. 
She  has  to  press  her  hand  to  her  heart  as  if  to  keep 
that  organ  from  bursting.  There  is  no  relief  from 
the  dreadful  throbbing  and  the  dreadful  pain.  The 
slamming  of  Mrs.  Ransom's  door  shuts  out  all  hope 
of  succor.  But  it  quickens  Mrs.  Villiers's  faculties, 
and  makes  her  so  alert,  that  when  the  two  children 
come  together  again,  which  they  very  soon  do,  she 
is  the  first  at  the  door.  Now  is  the  opportunity 
to  heap  burning  coals  on  the  head  of  Mrs,  Ransom. 
She  heaps  them. 


34  MR'    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

"  Wickliffe  Morgan !  What  are  you  doing  out 
there  with  that  Ransom  imp  ?  Do  you  want  to 
catch  some  disease  ?  Come  in  here  before  I  skin 
you." 

And  the  door  slams  shut ;  and  poor  Mrs.  Ran- 
som, with  trembling  form,  and  bated  breath,  and 
flashing  eyes,  clinches  her  fingers,  and  glares  with 
tremendous  wrath  over  the  landscape. 

And  in  the  absence  of  any  real,  tangible  infor- 
mation as  to  the  loss  of  that  hoop,  this  is,  perhaps, 
the  very  best  that  can  be  done  on  either  side. 


There  is  a  vast  difference  in  the  conduct  of  a 
man  and  a  woman  in  new  clothes.  When  a  woman 
gets  a  new  suit,  she  immediately  prances  down 
town,  and  for  hours  will  walk  contentedly  along  a 
crowded  thoroughfare,  receiving  fresh  impulses  of 
joy  every  time  another  woman  scans  her  wardrobe. 
But  a  man  is  so  different!  He  won't  put  on  his 
new  clothes  for  the  first  time  until  it  is  dark  ;  then 
he  goes  down  town  so  cautiously  as  to  almost 
create  the  impression  that  he  is  sneaking  along. 
If  he  sees  a  crowd  on  a  corner,  he  will  slip  across 
the  way  to  avoid  them  ;  and,  when  he  goes  into 
his  grocery,  he  tries  to  get  behind  as  many  barrels 
and  boxes  as  he  can.  All  the  time  he  is  trying  his 
level  best  to  appear  as  if  the  suit  was  six  months 


SHOULD    ASTORS     LUG    OFF    THE    MONEY?      35 

old,  and  all  the  while  realizes  that  he  is  making  an 
infernal  failure  of  it.  We  hope  the  time  will  come 
when  new  pants  will  be  so  folded  by  the  manu- 
facturer, that  they  won't  show  a  ridge  along  the 
front  of  each  leg  when  the  wearer  dons  them. 


SHOULD    THE    ASTORS    LUG    OFF    THE    MONEY? 

This  is  the  way  Astors  are  made:  A  Munson- 
street  man,  being  told  that  there  were  several  pieces 
of  tin  which  needed  mending,  conceived  the  idea  of 
getting  an  iron  and  solder,  and  doing  the  mending 
himself.  His  wife,  filled  with  vague  forebodings, 
perhaps,  said  that  the  expense  was  such  a  trifle, 
that  it  would  hardly  pay  to  do  it  one's  self ;  to  which 
he  responded,  — 

"  I'll  admit,  that,  in  this  one  instance,  it  would  not 
pay  :  but  there  is  something  being  in  want  of  repair 
every  little  while  ;  and,  if  I  have  the  tools  here  for 
fixing  it,  we  are  saved  just  so  much  expense  right 
along.  It  may  not  be  much  in  the  course  of  a 
year ;  but  every  little  helps,  and,  in  time,  the  total 
would  amount  to  a  nice  little  lump.  We  don't 
want  the  Astors  lugging  off  all  the  money  in  the 
country,  by  gracious  !  " 

He  got  the  iron  (one  dollar),  and  fifty  cents' 
worth  of  solder,  and  ten  cents'  worth  of  rosin.  He 
came  home  with  these  things,  and  went  into  the 


36  MR.    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

kitchen,  looking  so  proud  and  happy,  that  his  wife 
would  have  been  glad  he  got  them,  were  it  not  for 
an  overpowering  dread  of  an  impending  muss.  He 
called  for  the  articles  needing  repair.  His  wife 
brought  out  a  pan. 

"  Where's  the  rest  .-*  Bring  'em  all  out,  an'  let 
me  make  one  job  of  'em  while  I'm  about  it," 

He  got  them  all,  and  seemed  to  be  disappointed 
that  there  were  not  more  of  them.  He  pushed  the 
iron  into  the  fire,  got  a  milk-pan  inverted  on  his 
knee,  and,  with  the  solder  in  his  hand,  waited  for 
the  right  heat. 

"  That  iron  only  cost  a  dollar,  and  it'll  never 
wear  out  ;  and  there  is  enough  solder  in  this  piece 
to  do  twenty-five  dollars'  worth  of  mending,"  he 
explained  to  his  wife. 

Pretty  soon  the  iron  .was  at  the  right  heat,  he 
judged.  He  rubbed  the  rosin  about  the  hole  which 
was  to  be  repaired,  held  the  stick  of  solder  over  it, 
and  carefully  applied  the  iron.  It  was  an  intensely 
interesting  moment.  His  wife  watched  him  with 
feverish  interest.  He  said,  speaking  laboriously  as 
he  applied  the  iron,  "  The-only-thing-I-regret-about- 
it-is-that-I-didn't-think-of-getting-this-before-we  "  — 
Then  ascended  through  that  ceiling,  and  up  into  the 
very  vault  of  heaven,  the  awfullest  yell  that  woman 
ever  heard  ;  and  the  same  instant  the  soldering-iron 
flew  over  the  stove,  the  pan  went  clattering  across 
the  floor,  and  the  bar  of  solder  struck  the  wall  with 


SHOULD    ASTORS     LUG    OFF    THE    MONEY  (       37 

such  force  as  to  smash  right  through  both  the  plas- 
ter and  lath.  And  before  her  horrified  gaze  danced 
her  husband  in  an  esctasy  of  agony,  sobbing, 
screaming,  and  holding  on  to  his  left  leg  as  desper- 
ately as  if  it  was  made  of  solid  gold,  and  studded 
with  diamonds. 

"Get  the  camphor,  why  don't  you  ?  "  he  yelled. 
"  Send  for  a  doctor  !  Oh-oh,  I'm  a  dead  man !  "  he 
shouted. 

Just  then  his  gaze  rested  on  the  soldering-iron. 
In  an  instant  he  caught  it  up,  and  hurled  it  through 
the  window,  without  the  preliminary  of  raising  the 
sash. 

It  was  some  time  before  the  thoroughly  fright- 
ened and  confused  woman  learned  that  some  of 
the  molten  solder  had  run  through  the  hole  in  the 
pan,  and  on  to  his  leg,  although  she  knew  from 
the  first  that  something  of  an  unusual  nature  had 
occurred.  She  didn't  send  for  the  doctor.  She 
made  and  applied  the  poultices  herself,  —  to  save 
expenses.     She  said,  — 

"  We  don't  want  the  Astors  lugging  off  all  the 
money  in  the  country,  by  gracious  !  " 

"  Come,  Maria,  don't  you  be  too  cunning,"  he 
sheepishly  expostulated. 


38  MR.    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 


WHAT    HE    WANTED    IT    FOR. 

Those  who  attended  the  sale  of  animals  from 
Barnum's  hippodrome  in  Bridgeport,  the  other  day, 
report  the  following  occurrence.  A  tiger  was  being 
offered.  The  bid  run  up  to  forty-five  hundred  dol- 
lars. This  was  made  by  a  man  who  was  a  stranger, 
and  to  him  it  was  knocked  down.  Barnum,  who 
had  been  eying  the  stranger  uneasily  during  the 
bidding,  now  went  up  to  him,  and  said,  — 

"  Pardon  me  for  asking  the  question  ;  but  will 
you  tell  me  where  you  are  from  .-* " 

"  Down  South  a  bit,"  responded  the  man. 

"  Are  you  connected  with  any  show  .-•  " 

"  No." 

"  And  are  you  buying  this  animal  for  yourself  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

Barnum  shifted  about  uneasily  for  a  moment, 
looking  alternately  at  the  man  and  the  tiger,  and 
evidently  trying  his  best  to  reconcile  the  two 
together. 

"  Now,  young  man,"  he  finally  said,  "you  need 
not  take  this  animal  unless  you  want  to  ;  for  there 
are  those  here  who  will  take  it  off  your  hands." 

"  I  don't  want  to  sell,"  was  the  quiet  reply. 

Then  Barnum  said  in  his  desperation, — 

"  What  on  earth  are  you  going  to  do  with  such 
an  ugly  beast,  if  you  have  no  show  of  your  own, 
and  are  not  buying  for  some  one  who  is  a  show- 
man ? " 


A     PRUDENT     SUFFERER.  39 


"  Well,  I'll  tell  you,"  said  the  purchaser.  "  My 
wife  died  about  three  weeks  ago.  We  had  lived 
together  for  ten  years,  and  —  and  I  miss  her."  He 
paused  to  wipe  his  eyes,  and  steady  his  voice,  and 
then  added,  "  so  I've  bought  this  tiger." 

"  I  understand  you,"  said  the  great  showman  in 
A  husky  voice. 


A    PRUDENT    SUFFERER. 

Mr.  Phipps,  of  the  firm  of  Phipps  &  Hodge,  the 
Danbur)'^  undertakers,  was  sitting  in  his  shop 
Saturday  afternoon,  ruminating  gloomily  upon  the 
dull  times,  when  the  door  opened,  and  in  came 
a  stranger.  The  visitor  was  a  slim-faced  man, 
dressed  in  a  dun-colored  suit  of  rather  tight-fitting 
clothes.  He  looked  clear  around  the  room,  care- 
fully avoiding  a  glance  at  the  undertaker  until  the 
circuit  was  completed. 

Then  he  looked  curiously  at  him,  and  said,  — 

"  Is  the  boss  in  }  " 

"  Yes,  sir  :  I'm  one  of  them.  Is  there  any  thing 
i  can  do  for  you,  sir  ?  " 

"Well,  that'll  depend  on  how  we  kin  deal,  I 
reckon,"  replied  the  stranger  in  a  tone  of  subdued 
shrewdness.  "  I  have  just  had  to  shoulder  a  pret- 
ty heavy  aflfliction.  My  old  woman  went  under 
yesterday."  He  paused,  and  looked  interroga- 
tively over  the  array  of  coffins  and  caskets. 


40  MR.     MIGGS     OF     DANBURY. 

"  Your  wife  is  dead  ?  "  inquired  Mr,  Phipps  wilh 
professional  anxiety. 

"  You've  hit  it  square,  boss,"  replied  the  stranger 
with  an  approving  nod. 

"  What  time  yesterday  did  the  sad  event  occur  .-*  " 

"  About  five  P.M.,  as  near  as  we  kin  reckon." 

"  Pass  away  peacefully  ?  " 

"  Lit  out  without  a  groan,"  explained  the  be- 
reaved. "  She'd  been  sick,  off  an'  on,  for  about 
two  years  an'  better.  Not  right  down  sick  all 
that  time;  but  then  I  don't  think  she  done  a 
square  day's  work  in  two  years.  It's  been  a  great 
expense  all  through  ;  but  I  don't  complain,  howsum- 
ever.  I  came  in  to-day  to  see  about  fixin'  her 
up." 

"  Ah,  yes  !  You  wish  to  secure  a  burial-case. 
We  have,  as  you  see,  various  kinds.  You  will 
want  something  rather  nice,  I  fancy .-'  "  said  Mr. 
Phipps. 

"  Well,  yes  :  I  want  something  that  will  show 
considerable  grief  an'  sorrer,  but  nothin'  that's 
going  to  upset  folks,  you  know.  We  are  plain 
people,  boss,  an',  at  a  time  like  this,  —  with  a  great 
affliction  shouldered  on  us,  —  we  don't  feel  like 
riling  up  the  neighbors.  If  it  was  a  huskin'-bee, 
now,  or  a  barn-raisin'  even,  I'd  calculate  to  make 
their  eyes  prance  right  around  in  their  heads. 
But,"  and  he  sighed  heavily,  "  this  is  a  boss  of 
another  color." 


A    PRUDENT    SUFFERER.  47 

"  How  would  this  do  ?  "  suggested  Mr.  Phipps, 
indicating  a  plain  rosewood. 

"What's  the  price  of  that.''  You  see,  boss,  we 
live  over  in  Baxter  Plain.  It's  a  small  place,  an' 
there  ain't  much  style.  We  don't  want  to  go  in 
too  heavy,  you  know." 

"  Certainly  not ;  but  this  is  a  very  neat-looking 
article." 

"  Yes,"  coincided  the  widower :  "  it  does  seem 
as  if  one  needn't  feel  uneasy  with  that  coffin  in 
the  front-room,  an'  the  room  full  of  people." 

"  I  can  let  you  have  that  for  forty-five  dollars." 

"Jee —  Oh,  I  couldn't  think  of  paying  that! 
Forty-five  dollars  !  why,  you  kin  get  a  wagon 
in  two  colors  for  that  money.  You  see,  boss, 
this  is  a  plain  country  funeral,  an'  not  a  torch- 
light procession,"  feelingly  explained  the  widower. 

"  How  will  this  do,  then  ?  "  next  inquired  the 
undertaker,  hastily  pointing  to  another  article,  of 
common  wood,  brightly  stained. 

"  How  much  is  that .-'  " 

"  Only  eighteen  dollars." 

"  Eighteen  dollars,  hey .-'  Well,  that's  much  more 
like  it.  Still,  don't  it  strike  you  that  eighteen 
dollars  is  pretty  steep  for  these  times  .-* " 

"  Not  for  an  article  like  that,  sir.  I  can  assure 
you  that  such  a  coffin  could  not  have  been  bought 
for  a  cent  less  than  twenty-two  dollars  one  year 
aso." 


42  MR.    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

"  It  may  be  cheap,  as  you  say,"  ruminated  the 
bereaved ;  "  yet  eighteen  dollars  is  a  good  big  pile 
of  money.  I  want  something  nice,  of  course  ;  but 
I  don't  want  to  jump  in  so  mighty  heavy  as  to 
make  people  think  I  never  had  a  funeral  before. 
You  get  what   I  mean  .''" 

"  Oh,  yes  !  perfectly.  You  want  an  article  that 
will  look  respectable,  and  in  keeping  with  your 
circumstances  ;  but  yet  you  do  not  wish  to  be  too 
demonstrative  in   your  sorrow." 

"  By  jinks !  I  guess  you've  got  it  square  on  the 
head,"  said   the  pleased  sufferer. 

"  Now,  this  is  an  article  that  just  answers  the 
purpose,  in  my  judgment  ;  and  I  have  had  years 
of  experience." 

"Yes,  yes:  you  must  'av'  tucked  in  a  heap  of 
em,"  said  the  stranger  in  a  tone  of  unqualified 
respect,  "This  is  a  sound  one,  I  suppose,"  he 
continued,  tapping  the  sides. 

"  Perfectly  so :  we  use  the  very  best  kinds  of 
wood,"  explained  Mr.  Phipps. 

"Just  see  here  a  minute,"  exclaimed  the  stran- 
ger, suddenly  and  impressively  drawing  the  un- 
dertaker to  one  side.  "  You  say  that  coffin  is 
sound  as  a  nut,  an'  you  want  eighteen  dollars  for 
it.  Now,  I  want  you  to  understand  there  ain't 
any  thing  small  about  me,  an'  that  I've  got  just 
as  much  respect  for  the  dead  as  any  other  man 
living,   I    don't    care  where  you   snake  him  from. 


A  Pbudent  Suffekeb.  —  Page  42. 


i 


A    PRUDENT    SUFFERER.  43 

But  winter  is  coming  on,  you  know,  an'  we  owe 
a  little  to  the  living  as  well.  That's  a  sound 
coffin,  an'  a  sound  coffin  does  well  enough  in  the, 
right  place,  you  know  ;  but  I  want  to  ask  you, 
as  a  man  of  experience  in  these  things,  an' 
understanding  what  grief  is,  if  you  ain't  got  a 
box  of  that  pattern  that's  got  some  sort  of  a 
defect  in  the  wood,  which  you  could  knock  off 
a  little  on." 

"  I  haven't,  sir." 

"  Just  think  a  minit,  please,  he  anxiously  re- 
sumed.    "  Nothing  a  little  rotted  .-* " 

The  undertaker  shook  his  head. 

"  With  a  worm-hole  or  so  in, —  I  don't  mind  a 
dozen,"  suggested  the  sorrowing  one. 

"No." 

"  Or  a  little  sappy  .'*  Don't  answer  too  quick : 
take  time.  Just  a  little  sappy  where  it  wouldn't 
be  seen  by  the  public,  you  know  .'* " 

"  I  haven't  such  a  piece  of  wood  in  the  estab- 
lishment.    We  use  none  that  is  imperfect." 

"Eighteen  dollars  it  is,  then.''"  sighed  the 
afflicted. 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  I  must  take  it,  I  suppose,"  he  observed  ;  "  but, 
when  the  neighbors  see  that  coffin,  they'll  swear 
that  old  J —  has  struck  a  gold  mine.  Now,  mark 
my  words."      And  he  passed  gloomily  out 


44  MR.    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY, 

THE     COTTER'S     SATURDAY     NIGHT. 

It  is  Saturday  night,  —  the  dear  close  of  a  tossing, 
struggling,  restless  week.  To-morrow  is  the  sab- 
bath, when  all  labor  and  care  are  held  in  abey- 
ance. Saturday  night  stands  like  a  rock  before 
the  day  of  rest,  and  says  to  toil  and  worry,  "  Thus 
far  shalt  thou  come,  and  no  farther."  Blessed 
Saturday  night !  The  wearied  husband  and  father 
approaches  his  home.  He  looks  ahead,  and  sees 
the  light  streaming  in  cheerful  radiance  from  the 
windows,  and  wonders  if  that  boy  has  got  in  the 
kindlings.  He  steps  up  on  the  stoop,  and  opens 
the  door.  His  faithful  wife  meets  him  at  the  en- 
trance, and  greets  him  with,  "  Why  on  earth  don't 
you  clean  your  feet,  and  not  lug  the  house  full  of 
mud .''  Don't  you  know  I've  been  scrubbing  all 
day } "  And  thus  he  steps  into  the  bosom  of  his 
family,  grateful  for  the  mercies  he  has  received, 
and  thankful  that  he  has  a  home  to  come  to  when 
the  worry  and  care  and  toil  of  the  week  are  done. 
Yes,  he  is  home  now,  and  has  set  his  dinner-pail 
on  one  chair,  and  laid  his  hat  and  coat  on  «,nother, 
and,  with  his  eyes  full  of  soap  from  the  wash,  is 
shouting  impetuously  for  the  towel.  Saturday 
night  in  the  household  !  What  a  beautiful  sight !  — 
the  bright  light,  the  cheerful  figured  carpet,  the 
radiant  stove,  the  neatly  laid  table  with  the  steam- 
ing teapot,  the  pictures  on  the  walls,  the  spotless 


THE    COTTERS    SATURDAY    NIGHT.  45 

curtains,  the  purring  cat,  and  tlie  bright-eyed  chil- 
dren, rubbing  the  plates  with  their  fingers,  and 
looking  hungrily  at  the  canned  cherries.  Even  the 
wearied  wife  is  visibly  affected ;  and,  as  she  steps 
to  a  closet  with  his  hat  and  coat,  she  unconsciously 
observes  to  her  husband,  — 

"  Will  you  never  learn  to  hang  your  things  up  ? 
or  do  you  think  I've  got  nothin'  else  to  do  but 
chase  after  you  all  the  while  you  are  in  the  house  ?  " 

He  makes  no  reply;  but,  as  he  drops  into  his 
seat  at  the  table  with  a  sigh  of  relief,  he  says,  — 

"  What's  the  matter  with  that  infernal  lamp  ?  Is 
the  oil  all  out  ?  or  ain't  the  chimney  been  cleaned? 
It  don't  give  no  more  light  than  a  fire-bug." 

"  Turn  it  up,  then,"  she  retorts.  "  It  was  right 
enough  when  I  put  it  on  the  table;  but  I  suppose 
the  children  have  been  fooling  with  it.  They  never 
can  keep  their  hands  out  of  mischief  for  an  instant." 

"  I'll  fool  'em,"  he  growls,  "  if  they  don't  keep 
their  fingers  off'n  things  !  " 

After  this  sally,  a  silence  reigns,  broken  only  by 
a  subdued  rustle  of  plates  and  cutlery.  Then 
comes  a  whisper  from  one  of  the  children,  which  is 
promptly  met  in  a  loud  key  by  the  mother. 

"  Not  another  mouthful,  I  tell  you.  You  have 
had  one  dish  already,  and  that's  enough.  I  ain't 
going  to  be  up  all  night  wrastling  around  with  you, 
young  woman ;  and,  the  quicker  you  straighten 
that  face,  the  better  it'll  be  for  you." 


46  MR.    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY, 

The  offender  looks  with  abashed  inquiry  into  the 
faces  of  her  brothers  and  sisters,  and  gradually 
steals  a  glance  into  the  face  of  her  father,  but,  find- 
ing no  sympathy  there,  falls  to  making  surreptitious 
grimaces  at  the  mother,  to  the  relief  of  herself,  and 
the  intense  edification  of  the  other  children. 

The  tea  is  finally  over,  —  that  delightful  Saturday 
night's  meal ;  and  as  the  appeased  father  stretches 
back  in  his  chair,  and  looks  dreamily  at  the  flame 
dancing  in  the  stove,  he  says  to  his  first-born, — 

"Is  them  kindlings  cut,  young  man  ? " 

Of  course  they  have  not  been  ;  and  the  youth 
replies,  — 

"  I'm  going  right  out  to  do  it  now,"  and  steps 
about  lively  for  his  hat. 

"  You'd  better ;  and  if  I  come  home  again,  and 
find  them  kindlings  not  cut,  I  won't  leave  a  whole 
bone  in  your  body.     Do  you  hear  me  .''  " 

"  Yes,  pa." 

"  Well,  then,  start  your  boots." 

They  are  started  ;  and  the  relieved  father  comes 
back  with  his  eyes  to  the  glad  flame,  and  watches 
it  abstractedly,  while  his  thoughts  are  busy  with  the 
bright  anticipations  of  the  coming  day  of  rest. 

"  Ain't  you  going  down  street  ?  or  are  you  going 
to  set  there  all  night  .-* "  asks  his  wife.  He  turns 
around  and  looks  at  her.  It's  a  sort  of  mechan- 
ical movement,  without  any  apparent  expression. 
"  There's  got  to  be  something  got  for  dinner  to- 


THE    COTTERS    SATURDAY    NIGHT.  47 

morrow;  and  I  want  you  to  go  to  Adams's,  an'  see 
if  my  hat  is  done  ;  an'  Thomas  must  have  a  pair  of 
shoes ;  an'  there  ain't  a  bit  of  blacking  in  the 
house,"  resumes  the  mother.  "  You  can  tell  Bur- 
roughs, that  that  last  butter  he  sent  up  ain't  fit  for  a 
hog  to  eat ;  an',  if  he  ain't  got  any  thing  better  than 
that,  we  don't  want  it.  You'd  better  get  a  small 
piece  of  pork  while  you  are  down  ;  an'  if  you  see 
Parks,  ask  him  when  he's  coming  here  to  fix  that 
wall.  He  has  got  the  plaster  off,  an'  there  it  stands  ; 
an'  there's  no  use  of  trying  to  put  the  room  to 
rights  until  the  wall  is  fixed.  I  don't  see  what  the 
old  fool  is  thinking  of  to  leave  a  room  like  that." 

Hereupon  the  head  of  the  house  gets  up  on  his 
feet,  takes  a  brief,  longing  glance  at  the  pleasant 
stove,  and  wants  to  know  where  in  thunder  his  coat 
and  hat  are,  and  if  nothing  can  be  left  where  it  is 
put.  Then  she  tells  him,  that,  if  he  looks  where  he 
ought  to,  he'd  find  the  things  fast  enough.  He  does 
find  them,  and  then  goes  into  the  kitchen,  and  a 
moment  later  re-appears  with  a  very  red  face,  and 
passionately  asks  if  a  basket  can  be  kept  in  that 
house  for  five  minutes  at  a  time,  and  moodily  fol- 
lows his  wife  to  where  the  basket  is,  and  looks  still 
more  moody  when  he  is  brought  face  to  face  with 
it,  and  sarcastically  asked  if  he  could  see  a  barn  if 
it  was  in  front  of  his  nose.  Thus  primed  with  the 
invigorating  utterances  of  the  home-circle,  he  takes 
up  his  basket,  and  goes  down  street,  leaving  his 


48  MR.    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

faithful  wife  to  stand  as  a  wall  of  granite  between 
the  children  and  the  canned  cherries,  and  to  finish 
up  the  work.  As  he  reaches  the  gate,  the  door 
opens  ;  and  she  shouts  after  him,  — 

"Remember  to  get  some  matches;  there  ain't 
one  in  the  house :  and  don't  be  all  night,  for  I'm 
tired,  an'  want  to  get  to  bed  at  a  decent  hour,  if 
possible." 

"  Go  to  bed,  then,  an'  shut  up  your  mouth  ; "  and, 
with  this  parting  injunction,  he  strides  gloomily  out 
into  the  darkness.  It  is  not  exactly  known  what 
he  is  thinking  of  as  he  moves  along  ;  but  it  is  doubt- 
less of  the  near  approach  of  the  sabbath.  As  he 
comes  into  the  light  of  the  stores,  it  is  evident  that 
bright  influences,  and  tender  memories,  and  glad 
anticipations,  are  weaving  themselves  in  his  heart ; 
for  he  meets  Parks  with  a  smile,  and,  after  a  pleas- 
ant chat  about  the  winter's  prospect,  they  part, 
laughing.  Only  twice  in  the  trip  does  his  face  fall ; 
and  that's  when  he  goes  in  after  her  hat,  and  when 
he  gets  the  shoes.  A  half-hour  later  he  is  in  the 
grocery,  sitting  on  a  barrel  while  his  goods  are 
being  put  up,  and  carrying  on  an  animated  discus- 
sion with  the  grocer  and  several  acquaintances. 
At  nine  o'clock  he  starts  for  home.  He  has  several 
receipted  bills  in  his  pocket,  each  of  which  is  in 
excess,  of  course,  of  what  his  wife  had  estimated 
before  he  left  home;  and  as  he  struggles  along  with 
an   aching  arm,  and  stumbles  against  various  ob- 


I 


THE    COTTERS    SATURDAY    NIGHT.  49 

structions,  he  remembers  it  is  Saturday  night,  the 
end  of  the  week  of  toil,  and  tries  to  recall  bits  of 
verses  and  sentences  of  beautiful  sentiment  appro- 
priate to  the  hour.  He  don't  believe  in  grumbling 
at  everybody  ;  and  so  he  reserves  his  trouble  with 
the  grocery-bill,  his  indignation  at  the  milliner,  and 
the  various  annoyances  he  has  been  subjected  to, 
until  he  gets  home ;  and  then  he  hurls  his  thunder 
at  all  these  people  and  objects  through  the  head  of 
his  wife.  And  she,  the  dear  companion  of  his  life, 
having  got  the  children  from  back  of  the  stove  and 
to  bed  by  the  hair,  and  discovered  that  he  has  for- 
gotten the  matches,  and  got  more  bone  than  meat 
in  the  steak,  is  fully  prepared  to  tell  him  just  what 
she  thinks  of  him. 

And  while  they  talk,  the  flame  in  the  stove 
dances  happily,  the  lamp  sheds  a  rich,  soft  glow 
over  the  room,  and  the  colors  in  the  carpet  and  in 
the  pictures,  and  the  reflective  surfaces  of  the 
mantle  ornaments,  blend  into  a  scene  of  quiet 
beauty.  It  is  the  night  before  the  sabbath,  —  the 
calm,  restful  sabbath  ;  and,  as  the  two  workers  pre- 
pare to  seek  their  well-earned  repose,  she  says,  that, 
if  she  has  got  to  be  harassed  like  this,  she'll  be  in 
her  grave  before  the  winter  is  over;  and  he  is  confi- 
dent, that,  if  the  bills  keep  mounting  up  as  they  are 
doing,  the  whole  family  will  be  in  the  poor-house 
the  first  thing  they  know. 


50  MR.    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 


THAT    AWFUL    BOY. 

A  FAMILY  of  some  pretensions,  living  on  Nelson 
Street,  had  a  party  of  five  to  tea  Thursday  evening. 
The  table  was  set  out  in  fine  style,  as  the  company 
were  from  the  city,  and  it  was  absolutely  necessary 
to  show  them  that  folks  may  live  in  a  village  like 
Danbury,  and  yet  understand  the  requirements  of 
good  society.  When  they  were  all  at  the  table,  and 
the  lady  was  preparing  to  dish  up  the  tea,  her  little 
son,  whose  face  shone  like  the  knees  of  a  country 
clergyman's  pants,  pulled  her  secretly  by  the  dress. 
But  she  was  too  busy  to  notice.  He  pulled  hef 
again  ;  but,  receiving  no  response,  he  whispered,  — 

"  Ma,  ma  !  " 

"What  is  it.?" 

"  Ain't  this  one  of  Miss  Perry's  knives .'' "  hold- 
ing up  the  article  in  his  hand,  and  looking,  as  he 
properly  should,  very  much  gratified  by  such  an 
evidence  of  his  discernment. 

She  made  no  reply  in  words  ;  but  she  gave  him  a 
look  that  was  calculated  to  annihilate  him. 

The  tea  was  dished  out,  and  the  party  were  but- 
tering their  biscuit,  when  the  youth  suddenly  whis- 
pered again,  looking  at  his  plate  with  a  pleased  ex- 
pression, "  Why,  ma,  my  plate  is  different  from  the 
others." 

"Thomas  !  "  she  ejaculated  under  her  breath. 

"  Why,  it  is,  ma,"  persisted  Thomas.  "  Now, 
just  see  here  :  this  plate  has  "  — 


THAT    AWFUL,    BOY.  51 

"  Thomas,"  again  ejaculated  his  mother  with 
crimsoned  face,  while  his  father  assumed  a  frown 
nearly  an  inch  thick,  "  if  you  don't  let  your  victuals 
stop  your  mouth,  I'll  send  you  away  from  the  table." 

This  quieted  Thomas  at  once.  He  was  not  a 
very  particular  boy ;  and  he  concluded  that  the  dif- 
ference in  the  plates  was  not  of  such  moment  as 
to  admit  of  tedious  argument  at  this  time. 

Several  minutes  passed  without  any  further  inter- 
ruption. The  young  man  industriously  attended  to 
his  food,  but  at  the  same  time  kept  a  close  eye  on 
what  was  going  on  around  him.  He  was  lifting  up 
his  cup  for  a  sip,  when  his  glance  unfortunately 
fell  upon  the  saucer.  It  was  but  a  glance  ;  but, 
with  the  keenness  of  a  young  eye,  he  saw  that  the 
two  were  not  originally  designed  for  each  other. 

"  Why,  ma,"  he  eagerly  whispered,  "  this  cup 
don't  belong  to  "  — 

Then  he  suddenly  stopped.  The  expression  of 
his  mother's  face  actually  rendered  him  speechless, 
and  for  a  moment  he  applied  himself  to  his  meal  in 
depressed  silence.  But  he  was  young,  and  of  an 
elastic  temper;  and  he  soon  recovered  his  beaming 
expression.  A  little  later,  he  observed  a  lady  oppo- 
site putting  a  spoon  of  preserved  grapes  in  her 
mouth  ;  then  he  twitched  his  mother's  dress,  and 
said  again,  — 

"Ma!" 

The  unhappy  woman  shivered  at  the  sound  ;  but 


52  MR.     MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

his  remark,  this  time,  appeared  to  be  on  an  entirely 
different  subject,  as  he  asked,  — 

"  Ain't  Miss  Walker  a  funny  woman  .-'  " 

"  Funny  ? "  said  his  mother  with  a  sigh  of  relief. 
And  then  turning  to  the  company  with  the  expla- 
nation, "  Mrs.  Walker  is  an  old  lady  who  lives  across 
the  way,"  she  smiled  on  her  hopeful  son,  and  asked, 
"  What  makes  you  think  she  is  funny  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  know  —  you  know,"  began  Thomas, 
in  that  rapid,  moist  way  which  an  only  son  assumes 
when  he  is  imparting  information  before  company, 
in  response  to  a  cordial  invitation,  "  when  I  went 
over  there  this  afternoon  to  get  the  spoons,  she 
said  she  hoped  the  company  wouldn't  bite  'em,  as 
it  would  dent  "  — 

"  Thomas  ! "  shrieked  the  unhappy  mother  as 
soon  as  she  could  break  in. 

"Young  man,"  gasped  the  father,  "leave  this 
table  at  once." 

And  Thomas  left  at  once.  His  father  subse- 
quently followed  him,  and  the  two  met  in  a  back- 
room ;  and,  had  both  been  flying  express-trains 
coming  together,  there  could  scarcely  have  been 
more  noise. 


It  was  quite  cold  in  the  car.  The  passengers 
were  shrinking  up  into  as  small  a  space  as  possible, 
and  looking  straight  ahead  into  nothing  with  frown- 


A     PEW-BENCH.  53 


ing  visages.  A  very  little  boy  was  snuggled  up 
in  his  mother's  arms.  The  train  stopped  at  a 
station,  when  he  said,  — 

"  Am  I  goin'  home,  mamma  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear." 

"  Papa's  home  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  Are  you  goin'  to  see  papa  .'' " 

"  Yes,  dear." 

The  child  lifted  up  his  head,  and,  looking  eagerly 
into  his  mother's  face,  enthusiastically  exclaimed, 
"  When  papa  sees  me,  he'll  say,  '  Come  here,  you 
peshous  lam'.' " 

The  smile  which  illuminated  the  passengers' 
faces  upon  this  outburst  of  childish  expectation 
drove  away  the  frown,  and  brought  them  out  of 
themselves  for  the  rest  of  the  journey. 


There  can  be  no  doubt  whatever  that  a  pew- 
bench  is  the  most  dreadful  object  in  existence. 
However  cautiously  you  may  approach  it,  it  is  sure 
to  fly  up  at  one  end,  and  come  down  again  with  a 
thud  that  makes  your  scalp  creep,  and  draws  upon 
you  the  indignant  glances  of  everybody  in  the 
building.  And,  even  if  you  don't  put  your  foot  on 
it,  the  fear  that  you  may  do  so,  when  not  thinking, 
draws  your  mind  from  the  sermon,  and  fastens  it 
upon  the  dread  possibility  in  lively  terror.     Pew- 


54  MR.     MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

benches  should  be  run  full  of  lead  at  both  ends, 
and  held  down  by  iron  cables  attached  to  rocks 
sunk  in  the  cellar  ;  but,  until  this  is  done,  the  only 
alternative  offered  is  drawing  your  legs  up  on  the 
seat,  and  sitting  on  them  till  the  service  is  over. 


HE  WANTED  TO  KNOW  THE  MENU. 

Jay  Charlton's  admirable  articles  on  cookery 
are  not  always  productive  of  the  happiest  results, 
although  the  fault  does  not  lie  with  him.  Mr. 
Jopper  is,  ordinarily,  a  quiet  man,  and  sufficiently 
submissive  to  suit  the  most  exacting  wife.  But 
that  discretion  which  is  the  better  part  of  valor 
IS  quite  frequently  dulled  and  rendered  ineffective 
when  the  possessor  is  full  of  liquor.  It  was  just 
in  this  deplorable,  and,  we  may  add,  unusual  state, 
Mr.  Jopper  appeared  at  his  home  Monday  evening. 
At  the  "  store "  they  had  been  talking  of  Mr. 
Charlton's  recent  article  on  the  importance  of  a 
well-furnished  table ;  and  this  topic  appeared  to 
have  engrossed  his  mind  to  the  entire  exclusion 
of  every  thing  else.  He  found  his  wife  mixing  up 
the  pancake  batter. 

It  was  evident  he  was  unsettled  as  to  the  exact 
time  of  day. 

"  What's  the  nietiu  ?  "  he  hilariously  shouted. 

"  What  are  you  talking  about .-'  "  she  demanded. 


HE  WANTED  TO  KNOW  THE  MENU.     55 

giving  him  a  look  that  would,  in  sober  moments, 
have  subdued  him  at  once. 

"  The  menu,  the  menu :  that's  what's  my  lan- 
guage on  this  occasion,"  he  boisterously  repeated, 
not  noting  her  expression. 

"  Are  you  going  to  bed  }  "  she  hoarsely  muttered. 

"  No,  I  ain't  going  to  bed,  not  by  a  jugful,  until 
I  find  out  what  I  find  out."  He  caught  hold  of  a 
chair  to  steady  himself.  "  I  tell  you,  Mrs.  Jopper, 
there's  goin'  to  be  change  here  at  once." 

"  Oh  !  "  It  was  all  she  said ;  but  it  had  a  mighty 
significance. 

"  Yez,  zir,  goin'  to  be  a  change,"  continued  the 
unfortunate  man,  flourishing  his  unoccupied  hand 
for  emphasis.  "  I  ain't  goin'  to  stand  this  sort  of 
living  any  longer.  There's  got  to  be  a  change  in 
the  menn  ;  or,  first  thing  you  know,  I'll  get  de- 
pressed, an'  be  comin'  home  drunk,  —  drunk,  by 
gracious  ! 

"  Oh  !  " 

"  Yez,  zir.  Old  girl,  you've  got  to  hike  aroun' 
and  fling  some  style  inter  the  victuals.    You've  "  — 

She  was  on  him  in  a  flash,  —  on  him  with  flash- 
ing eyes,  and  plying  fingers,  and  heated  breath. 

"  What  do  you  say,  you  drunken  vagabond  ? " 
she  screamed,  placing  her  knees  on  his  chest,  and 
clutching  her  fingers  into  his  hair,  and  twisting 
his  head  with  such  fury,  that  it  was  a  great  wonder 
she  didn't  dislocate  his  neck. 


56  MR.     MIGGS    OF     DANBURY. 

"  Lemme  up !  "  he  yelled. 

"  You  want  a  change,  do  you,  in  the  cooking  ?  " 
she  hissed. 

"  No,  I  don't !  no,  I  don't !  "  he  howled.  "  Hope 
to  die  if  I  do  ! " 

"  Want  me  to  hike  around,  eh,  an'  put  on  style, 
you  drunken  lout  .-*  "  she  continued  in  a  voice  sup- 
pressed by  passion. 

"  Lemme  up  !  "  he  screamed. 

"  What's  the  vienii,  is  it  .■'  What's  the  menu  ? 
Oh,  you  old  whiskey  tank  !  I'll  show  you  what's 
the  metm ! "  and  she  gave  his  head  a  terrific 
wrench. 

"Ouch!"  he  yelled. 

"  Do  you  want  to  know  what's  the  memt  now  .-*  " 
she  hissed. 

"  No  !  "  he  shouted. 

"  Will  you  go  to  bed  .?  " 

"  Yes  !  "  he  howled. 

Then  she  let  him  up,  and,  agreeably  to  promise, 
he  went  directly  to  bed,  and  hasn't  manifested  the 
faintest  anxiety  in  regard  to  the  menu  once  since. 


WHO     WAS     TO     BLAME  ? 

Mrs.  Pulsey  was  real  indignant  yesterday 
morning  on  finding  the  handle  to  the  coal  sieve 
not  yet  mended,  although  broken  two  weeks  ago. 


WHO     WAS     TO     BLAME  f  57 

Mrs.  Pulscy  actually  shed  tears  of  vexation.  The 
very  clay  the  handle  was  broken  she  told  Mr.  Pul- 
sey,  and  he  said  he  would  attend  to  it  at  once  ; 
and  he  had  continued  to  promise  to  do  it  with 
unimpeachable  faithfulness.  Mrs.  Pulsey  lost 
patience  now  ;  and  her  irritation  found  expression 
in  words.     Said  Mrs.  Pulsey,  — 

"I  declare,  this  is  just  a  little  too  much  !  It  is 
not  enough  that  I  should  sift  the  ashes,  but  that  I 
should  have  to  do  it  with  a  broken  sieve.  I  .am 
just  tired  of  this  thing,  and  I  shall  stand  it  no 
longer.  I  won't  be  put  on  like  this  by  no  Josiah 
Pulsey.  I  won't  stand  such  treatment.  I  won't 
stand  it  a  day  longer." 

And  with  the  sieve  in  her  hand,  anger  in  her 
heart,  and  the  tears  running  down  her  cheeks,  she 
started  in  the  house  to  overhaul  the  recreant,  the 
shamefully  neglectful  husband. 

Mr.  Pulsey  was  in  there.  He  had  made  ready 
to  go  down  town  to  his  work.  He  was  slipping  on 
his  overcoat  in  some  haste,  when  a  sudden  exclama- 
tion escaped  him,  and  a  scowl  settled  on  his  face. 
Mr,  Pulsey  had  shoved  his  arm  into  the  sleeve  with 
force  enough  almost  to  have  made  it  appear  again 
half  way  across  the  street ;  but  yet  it  did  not  show 
itself  at  the  end  of  the  sleeve.  It  was  lodged 
inside,  —  lodged  in  a  broken  lining.  For  three 
weeks  this  lining  had  been  broken.  On  every  day 
in  that  time   he   had  called   his  wife's  attention   to 


58  MR.     MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

the  fault ;  and  on  each  day  she  promised  to  attend 
to  it  when  he  came  home  at  night.  But  the  next 
morning  his  trusting  and  shoving  hand  would  fetch 
up  against  the  same  snag.  He  lost  all  patience 
now.  A  violent  imprecation  flew  from  his  lips, 
and  his  face  flushed  with  anger.  He  spoke  aloud 
in  a  voice  made  harsh  with  passion  :  — 

"  Hang  me,  if  this  isn't  carrying  things  with  a 
pretty  high  hand !  I  wonder  what  that  woman 
thinks  of  herself,  anyway  !  Three  weeks  ago  I 
told  her  about  that  lining ;  and  she  has  promised 
a  hundred  times  to  fix  it,  and  it  ain't  done  yet. 
By  George  !  if  I  had  a  conscience  like  that,  I  would 
trade  it  off  for  a  screw-driver  without  any  handle,  so 
to  say  I  had  something — curse  me  if  I  wouldn't  ! 
I'll  give  her  a  piece  of  my  mind  which  she  will 
understand  !  " 

And  he  started  for  the  yard  just  as  she  entered 
the  back-door.  They  met  half  way  in  the  kitchen. 
There  was  a  scowl  on  his  face  ;  there  were  tears 
on  hers. 

She  pushed  the  broken  sieve  at  him,  and  impet- 
uously opened  her  mouth. 

"  Josi  "  —  Then  she  saw  the  overcoat  with  the 
broken  lining,  and  his  name  sank  from  her  lips. 

Simultaneously  he  shoved  the  overcoat  towards 
her,  and  impetuously  opened  his  mouth. 

"Han"  — 

Then  he  saw  the  sieve  with  the  broken  handle, 
and  her  name  died  on  his  lips. 


_: 


AN     EXTRAORDINARY    STOVE-PIPE.  59 

She  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  Josiah,"  she  said  in  a  subdued  voice,  "  let  me 
take  that  coat,  and  mend  it. 

"  Hannah,"  he  rejoined  in  a  softened  tone,  "  give 
me  that  sieve  till  I  fix  it.  You  sha'n't  sieve  the 
ashes  any  more." 

"  Josiah  ! " 

He  had  started  to  the  door  ;  but  he  turned  on 
hearing  her  call.  There  were  tears  in  her  eyes 
now,  fresh  tears,  but  not  of  passion.  Then  there 
was  an  expression  to  the  face  which  induced  him 
to  step  hastily  back,  put  his  arm  around  her,  and 
hide  her  face  for  an  instant  with  his  own. 


AN     EXTRAORDINARY    STOVE-PIPE. 

The  Cobleighs  put  up  the  sitting-room  stove 
Thursday.  Mr.  Cobleigh  had  been  dreading  the 
thing  for  a  month.  He  wanted  to  hire  a  regularly 
built  stove-erector  to  do  the  job;  but  work  has  been 
scarce  at  his  shop,  and  he  felt  that  he  could  not 
afford  to  hire.  Mrs.  Cobleigh  got  down  the  pipe 
for  him  from  the  garret,  and  helped  him  to  get 
the  stove  out  of  the  closet.  No  accident  occurred 
during  these  operations.  But  the  unusual  circum- 
stance did  not  encourage  Mr.  Cobleigh  :  on  the 
contrary,  it  inspired  him  with  greater  dread.  When 
every  thing  was  in  readiness  to  put  up  the  pipe, 


6o  MR.    MIGGS    OF     DANBURY. 

he  walked  about  the  machinery  with  considerable 
uneasiness,  and  eyed  it  with  undisguised  appre- 
hension. Several  times  he  picked  up  a  link  ;  and 
then,  while  a  sudden  tremor  would  flash  over  his 
frame,  he  would  drop  it  again. 

"  Come,"  said  Mrs.  Cobleigh,  who,  woman-like, 
knew  more  than  Solomon  about  putting  up  a  stove, 
"get  to  work  now.  It  can  be  done  in  a  minute 
if  you'll  only  set  right  to  work  at  it." 

Mr.  Cobleigh  turned  pale. 

"  Curse  this  being  poor !  "  he  muttered  between 
his  clinched  teeth. 

Then  he  took  hold  of  the  link  whose  flat  end 
indicated  that  it  belonged  to  the  stove.  It  sat  on 
its  place  with  the  ease  of  long  familiarity.  He 
looked  at  his  wife  with  a  nameless  fear  on  his  face. 
Then  he  picked  up  the  next  link,  spread  apart  his 
legs,  compressed  his  lips,  and  proceeded  to  join  it 
to  the  other.  He  had  scarcely  brought  the  two 
ends  together  when  the  one  slipped  over,  and 
enclosed  the  other.  Another  link  was  to  be  jout 
on  before  the  elbow  could  be  used,  and  he  had  to 
use  a  chair  to  reach  the  place.  His  face  was  very 
white  now  ;  and  his  limbs  trembled  to  that  degree, 
that  he  could  hardly  keep  his  place  on  the  chair. 
He  took  the  link  into  his  shaking  hands,  and  raised 
it  to  its  place.  It  went  on  at  once.  The  appear- 
ance of  his  face  was  simply  ghastly  now.  His 
lips  were  ashen  ;  his  eyes  flamed  with  a  sickening 
terror. 


AN     EXTRAORDINARY    STOVE-PIPE.  6l 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  hand  me  that  elbow  ! "  he 
hoarsely  whispered. 

His  wife  promptly  complied.  But  his  hand 
shook  to  such  an  extent,  that  he  could  not  hold  it ; 
and  it  fell  to  the  floor.  She  picked  it  up,  and  again 
extended  it  to  him. 

"  For  pity  sake,  Cobleigh,  what  is  the  matter  .'*  " 
she  ejaculated  as  his  deathly  face  appeared  to  her. 

"  Sh  !  don't  speak!"  he  gasped  in  a  shaking 
voice. 

He  applied  the  elbow.     It  went  on  in  a  flash. 

"  The  other  link,"  he  hyste.ically  said  with  a 
half-suppressed  scream. 

Sick  at  heart  with  apprehension,  and  perplexed 
in  mind,  the  unhappy  woman  hastened  to  comply. 

Her  husband  seized  the  last  link.  There  was 
not  only  no  color  in  his  face,  but  his  hair  stood 
right  up  on  his  head  ;  the  perspiration  hung  in 
great  beads  from  his  forehead ;  the  chair  on  which 
he  stood  fairly  rattled  beneath  the  quiver  of  his 
person.  He  raised  the  link  ;  placed  it  in  position  ; 
gave  it  a  push.  It  went  straight  to  its  place  ;  and 
at  the  same  time  he  shoved  the  other  end  in  the 
chimney-hole. 

A  short,  sharp  cry  resounded  through  the  room  : 
there  was  a  quick  movement  of  the  chair,  and  the 
unhappy  man  lay  senseless  on  the  floor.  The 
neighbors  were  alarmed,  and  flocked  in,  and  picked 
him  up  and  laid  him  on  the  bed,  while  a  doctor  was 


62  MR.     MIGGS     OF     DANBURY. 


sent  for,  and  restoratives  actively  applied.  But  it 
was  several  hours  before  he  returned  to  full  con- 
sciousness. The  shock  to  his  nervous  system  had 
been  very,  very  great.  The  first  words  he  gave 
utterance  to  were  addressed  to  his  wife, — 

"  Was  it  all  a  fearful  dream,  Matilda  .'' " 

"  What,  John  ?  "  asked  the  fond  wife. 

"The  stove,  the  sitting-room  stove.     Is  it  up?  " 

"Why,  yes,  John.     It  is  up." 

"Did  — did  I  do  it?" 

"  Yes,  John,  you  did  it." 

He  put  the  trembling  hands  over  the  white  face, 
and  burst  into  tears. 


AN    EMINENTLY    THOUGHTFUL    HUSBAND. 

He  was  a  wonderfully  practical  man,  and  she 
was  marvellously  poetical.  To  her,  life  had  been 
a  dream  edged  with  gold,  and  filled  in  with  the  love- 
liest of  roseate  hues.  But  to  him  had  appeared 
every  thing  in  the  homespun  garb  of  every-day 
life.  He  is  a  country  merchant,  and  buys  his  goods 
in  New  York.  His  partner  always  went  to  the 
city  on  business  connected  with  the  grocery  ;  but 
the  partner  was  recently  taken  ill,  and  our  ex- 
tremely practical  friend  was  obliged  to  go.  It  was 
his  first  visit  to  the  great  city,  and  he  was  to  be 
gone  three  days.  It  was  a  momentous  event  to  his 
fond  wife.     Do  the  best  she  could,  her  mind  was 


AN     EMINENTLY    THOUGHTFUL    HUSBAND,         6t, 

troubled  with  forebodings.  It  is  difficult  to  tell 
just  exactly  how  he  felt  ;  but,  while  it  was  evident 
he  realized  the  importance  of  the  step  he  was 
about  to  take,  still  he  never  lost  sight  of  the  fact 
that  a  mighty  responsibility  was  resting  on  his 
shoulders,  and  that  all  private  emotion  must  be 
subserved  to  public  interests.  His  carpet-bag  was 
packed,  and  his  hand  on  the  door  to  pass  out  of 
the  house,  when  she  bade  him  good-by.  She  put 
both  arms  about  his  neck. 

"John,"  she  sobbed,  "you  are  going  away." 

This  was  so  palpable,  that  it  would  have  been 
madness  to  attempt  a  denial :  so  he  merely  ob- 
served, — 

"  Look  out  for  my  collar,  Maria." 

"You  will  think  of  your  wife  while  you  are 
gone  ?  "  she  whispered  huskily. 

He  was  a  trifle  nervous  under  the  pressure  of 
her  arms  upon  his  collar  ;  but  he  spoke  re-assur- 
ingly,  — 

"  I  will  bear  it  in  mind,  my  dear." 

"  You  will  think  of  me  as  mourning  your  absence, 
and  anxiously  awaiting  your  return  ? "  she  mur- 
mured. 

"  You  can  trust  me  to  attend  to  it,"  he  replied, 
with  as  much  firmness  as  if  it  had  been  a  request 
for  six  barrels  of  mackerel. 

"  And  you'll  be  very  careful  of  yourself  for  my 
sake.-*"  she  suggested  in  a  broken  voice. 


54  MR.     MIGGS     OF    DANBURY. 

"I  will  see  it  attended  to,  my  dear.  But  it  is 
almost  time  for  the  train  ;"  and  he  gravely  sought 
to  remove  her  arms  from  his  neck. 

"John,  John!"  she  convulsively  cried,  "don't 
forget  me,  doiit  forget  me  !  " 

"  Maria,"  he  said  with  a  tinge  of  reproach  in  his 
tone,  "  I  have  made  a  memorandum  to  that  effect," 

And  then  she  let  him  go,  still  tearful,  but  con- 
fident "  it  would  be  attended  to." 


STRIKING     A     BONANZA. 

A  GENTLEMAN  named  Parkington,  living  on 
Mulford  Street,  was  awakened  from  a  sound  sleep 
on  Friday  night  by  a  heavy  knocking  on  not  only 
his  front-door,  but  over  the  entire  front  of  the 
house.  It  was  a  violent  slamming,  and  calculated 
to  awake  even  a  boy.  Mr.  Parkington  got  out  of 
bed,  and  hurried  to  his  window  which  faced  the 
street.  He  looked  out  upon  a  spectacle  that 
brought  a  countless  host  of  goose-pimples  to  his 
legs,  and  filled  him  with  unbounded  astonishment. 
A  man,  a  stranger,  with  a  long  pole  in  -his  hand, 
was  slapping  it  against  the  front  of  the  building. 
As  soon  as  Mr.  Parkington  could  recover  his 
senses,  he  shouted  to  the  party  below,  — 

"  Who  are  you  .-*    What  are  you  doing  that  for  } " 
The    striking    ceased    at    once.      The    stranger 


STRIKING    A    bonanza'.  65 

brought  the  pole  to  a  rest  at  his  side,  and  touched 
his  hat  with  true  military  etiquette  ;  and  the  face 
that  was  turned  up  to  Mr.  Parkington  was  rugged 
in  feature,  bronzed  by  the  weather,  but  beaming  in 
expression. 

"  Well,  what  is  it .-' "  asked  Mr.  Parkington 
after  a  moment  of  hesitation,  in  which  he  saw  that 
the  face  was  not  that  of  a  bad  man. 

"  Oh !  you  are  there,  are  you .'' "  asked  the 
stranger. 

"  Certainly,"  replied  Mr.  Parkington  in  a  tone  of 
confidence. 

"  You  will  pardon  me,  I  hope,"  said  the  stranger, 
smiling  agreeably,  "  for  awaking  you  at  this  un- 
seemly hour  ? " 

Mr.  Parkington  was  prone  to  grant  the  pardon  ; 
but  his  eye  caught  sight  of  the  pole,  and  he  hesi- 
tated. 

"  What  did  you  make  such  a  row  for  } "  he  asked. 

"  Oh !  that  was  merely  a  matter  of  ceremony," 
explained  the  stranger.  "  I  could  have  aroused 
you  at  the  door ;  but  I  know  your  position  in 
society"  (Mr.  Parkington  keeps  a  feed-store),  "and 
I  wanted  to  show  you  a  little  distinction." 

"  Who  are  you  ? "  asked  Mr.  Parkington  in  a 
softened  voice. 

"  I  am  an  American,"  was  the  reply,  distinctly 
uttered. 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  " 


66  NVR.    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

"  Would  you  like  to  make  five  hundred  thousand 
dollars  ?  "  was  the  somewhat  startling  interrogation. 

"Five  hundred  thousand  dollars?"  repeated  Mr. 
Parkington  in  astonishment. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  that's  what  I  said,"  replied  the 
stranger.  "  An  outlay  of  fifty  dollars,  with  judg- 
ment, will  accomplish  this  fortune.  I  have  got  the 
whole  secret  and  the  judgment  ;  and,  if  you  can 
raise  the  fifty  dollars,  I  will  let  you  go  in  with  me  ; 
and  the  thing  is  done, — the  half  million  dollars 
is  ours." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ? "  asked  Mr.  Park- 
ington in  some  bewilderment. 

"  You  know  Stanley  is  in  Africa,  looking  for  the 
sources  of  the  Nile  .-*  " 

"  Yes  ;  but "  — 

"  All  right,  don't  interrupt  me.  There  is  a 
world-wide  interest  in  the  subject ;  and,  when  Stan- 
ley finds  the  source  of  that  mysterious  river,  there 
are  going  to  be  millions  of  people  flock  there. 
Now,  what  I  propose  to  you,  if  you  have  got  fift)i 
dollars  to  put  into  the  enterprise,  is  this,  that  we 
both  go  there  as  soon  as  convenient,  and  start  an 
eating-saloon.     What  do  you  say  .''  " 

Within  the  brief  space  of  thirty  seconds,  a  man 
with  a  pair  of  pants  held  on  to  him  by  clutching 
the  waistband  with  one  hand,  while  the  other 
clinched  a  club,  was  coming  off  the  front-stoop 
like  a  whirlwind,  while  the  projector  of  an  eating- 


A    SORE    TROUBLE.  67 

saloon  in  Africa  was  scampering  out  of  tlic  gate 
with  no  less  enthusiasm. 


A     SORE    TROUBLE. 

There  is  nothing  flat  and  monotonous  about  a 
broken  lining  to  a  coat-sleeve.  It  always  comes 
up  as  fresh  and  vivacious  as  at  the  lirst.  A  man 
appears  about  as  surprised  when  he  runs  his  hand 
into  the  slit  the  tenth  time  as  he  did  the  first ; 
and  when  he  looks  to  see  his  hand  appear  at  the 
end,  and  finds  that  it  is  doubled  up  in  the  middle 
of  the  sleeve,  his  countenance  will  assume  as  much 
interest  as  if  the  occurrence  was  something  never 
before  heard  of.  It  is  astonishing,  in  this  connec- 
tion, that  a  broken  sleeve-lining  rarely  happens  in 
the  right  sleeve.  This  is  because,  perhaps,  that 
the  right  arm  is  first  inserted.  A  broken  sleeve- 
lining  can  only  appear  to  advantage  in  one  posi- 
tion ;  and  that  is  when  the  man  has  one  arm  insert- 
ed correctly,  the  coat  in  a  wad  against  the  back  of 
his  head,  and  his  body  bent  over  in  the  effort  to 
shove  the  remaining  arm  through.  It  is  at  this, 
the  most  painful  juncture,  that  his  attention  is 
called  to  the  rent  lining.  In  a  constrained  voice 
he  directs  the  notice  of  his  wife  to  the  same,  with 
a  partly  stifled  inquiry  as  to  what  on  earth  she  has 
been  doing,  that  the  trouble  has  not  been  rcmediec 


68  MR.     MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

before.  It  is  like  a  woman  on  such  an  occasion  to 
say  that  he  won't  leave  his  coat  home  so  that  it 
can  be  fixed.  It  takes  a  woman  to  think  of  exas- 
perating things.  The  only  resort  now  left  to  him. 
is  to  declare  that  he  knows  better.  Then  she  says, 
if  he  will  take  the  coat  off  now,  she  will  fix  it,  and 
makes  a  show  of  getting  a  thread  and  needle.  She 
knows  he  won't  take  it  off  and  wait.  And  he 
don't.  A  man  may  have  a  broken  sleeve-lining, 
and  a  slit  in  his  trousers,  as  long  as  fifteen  minutes 
at  a  railway  station  ;  but  he  knows  the  propriety  of 
things. 


MR.     COVILLE     PROVES     MATHEMATICS. 

There  are  men  who  dispute  what  they  do  not 
understand.  Mr.  Coville  is  such  a  man.  When 
he  heard  a  carpenter  say  that  there  were  so  many 
shingles  on  the  roof  of  his  house,  because  the  roof 
contained  so  many  square  feet,  Coville  doubted  the 
figures  ;  and,  when  the  carpenter  went  away,  he 
determined  to  test  the  matter  by  going  up  on  the 
roof  and  counting  them.  And  he  went  up  there. 
He  squeezed  through  the  scuttle,  —  Coville  weighs 
two  hundred  and  thirty,  —  and  then  sat  down  on 
the  roof,  and  worked  his  way  carefully  and  deliber- 
ately toward  the  gutter.  When  he  got  part  way 
down,  he  heard  a  sound  between  him  and  the  shin- 
gles, and  became  aware  that  there  was  an  interfer- 


MR.     COVILLE     PROVES     MATHEMATICS.         69 

ence  some  way  in  his  further  locomotion.  He  tried 
to  turn  over,  and  crawl  back  ;  but  the  obstruction 
held  him.  Then  he  tried  to  move  along  a  little,  in 
hopes  that  the  trouble  would  prove  but  temporary ; 
but  an  increased  sound  convinced  him  that  either 
a  nail  or  a  sliver  had  hold  of  his  cloth,  and  that,  if 
he  would  save  any  of  it,  he  must  use  caution.  His 
folks  were  in  the  house  ;  but  he  could  not  make  them 
hear  ;  and,  besides,  he  didn't  v/ant  to  attract  the 
attention  of  the  neighbors.  So  he  sat  there  until 
after  dark,  and  thought.  It  would  have  been  an 
excellent  opportunity  to  have  counted  the  shingles  ; 
but  he  neglected  to  use  it.  His  mind  appeared  to 
run  into  other  channels.  He  sat  there  an  hour 
after  dark,  seeing  no  one  he  could  notify  of  his 
position.  Then  he  saw  two  boys  approach  the  gate 
from  the  house,  and,  reaching  there,  stop.  It  was 
light  enough  for  him  to  see  that  one  of  the  two 
was  his  son  ;  and  although  he  objected  to  having 
the  other  boy  know  of  his  misfortune,  yet  he  had 
grown  tired  of  holding  on  to  the  roof,  and  concluded 
he  could  bribe  the  strange  boy  into  silence.  With 
this  arrangement  mapped  out,  he  took  out  his  knife, 
and  threw  it  so  that  it  would  strike  near  to  the  boys, 
and  attract  their  attention.  It  struck  nearer  than  he 
anticipated  ;  in  fact,  it  struck  so  close  as  to  hit  the 
strange  boy  on  the  head,  and  nearly  brain  him.  As 
soon  as  he  recovered  his  equilibrium,  he  turned  on 
Coville's  boy,  who,  he  was  confident,  had  attempted 


/O  MR.     MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

to  kill  him,  and  introduced  some  astonishment  and 
bruises  into  his  face.  Then  he  threw  him  down, 
and  kicked  him  m  the  side,  and  banged  him  on  the 
head,  and  drew  him  over  into  the  gutter,  and 
pounded  his  legs ;  and  then  hauled  him  back  to  the 
walk  again,  and  knocked  his  head  against  the  gate. 
And,  all  the  while,  the  elder  Coville  sat  on  the  roof, 
and  screamed  for  the  police,  but  couldn't  get  away. 
And  then  Mrs.  Coville  dashed  out  with  a  broom, 
and  contributed  a  few  novel  features  to  the  affair 
at  the  gate ;  and  one  of  the  boarders  dashed  out 
with  a  double-barrel  gun,  and,  hearing  the  cries 
from  the  roof,  looked  up  there,  and,  espying  a  figure 
which  was  undoubtedly  a  burglar,  drove  a  handful 
of  shot  into  its  legs.  With  a  howl  of  agony,  Co- 
ville made  a  plunge  to  dodge  the  missiles,  freed 
himself  from  the  nail,  lost  his  hold  to  the  roof,  and 
went  sailing  down  the  shingles  with  awful  velocity, 
both  legs  spread  out,  his  hair  on  end,  and  his  hands 
making  desperate  but  fruitless  efforts  to  save  him- 
self. He  tried  to  swear,  but  was  so  frightened  that 
he  lost  his  power  of  speech  ;  and,  when  he  passed 
over  the  edge  of  the  roof  with  twenty  feet  of  tin 
gutter  hitched  to  him,  the  boarder  gave  him  the 
contents  of  the  other  barrel,  and  then  drove  into 
the  house  to  load  up  again.  The  unfortunate  Co 
ville  struck  into  a  cherry-tree,  and  thence  bounded 
to  the  ground,  where  he  was  recognized,  picked  up 
by  the  assembled  neighbors,  and  carried  into  the 


I 


A    FEMALE    PRANK.  71 

house.  A  new  doctor  is  making  good  day  wages 
picking  the  sliot  out  of  his  legs.  The  boarder  has 
gone  into  the  country  to  spend  the  summer ;  and 
the  junior  Coville,  having  sequestered  a  piece  of 
brick  in  his  handkerchief,  is  lying  low  for  that 
other  boy.  He  says,  that,  before  the  calm  of  an- 
other sabbath  rests  on  New  England,  there  will  be 
another  boy  in  Danbury  who  can't  wear  a  cap. 


A     FEMALE    PRANK. 

When  a  woman  puts  three  mackerel  to  soak  over 
night  in  a  dish-pan  whose  sides  are  eight  inches 
high,  and  leaves  the  pan  on  a  stairway,  she  has 
accomplished  her  mission,  and  should  go  hence. 
This  was  what  a  Division-street  woman  did  Friday 
night,  —  filled  the  pan  at  the  pump,  and  then  left 
it  standing  on  the  steps  to  the  stoop,  while  she 
went  into  the  next  house  to  see  how  many  buttons 
would  be  required  to  go  down  the  front  of  a  redin- 
gote.  And  a  mighty  important  affair  that  was,  to 
be  sure.  And  there  was  her  husband  tearing 
through  the  house  in  search  of  a  handkerchief,  and 
not  finding  it,  of  course.  And  then  he  rushed  out 
into  the  yard,  wondering  where  on  earth  that 
woman  could  be  ;  and  started  down  the  steps  with- 
out seeing  the  pan,  or  even  dreaming  that  any  one 
could  be  so  idiotic  as  to  leave  it  there.     Of  course 


72  MR.    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

ne  stepped  on  it;  or  at  least  that  is  the  supposi- 
tion, as  the  neighbors  who  were  brought  out  by 
the  crash  that  followed  saw  a  horrified  man  and 
three  very  demoralized  mackerel  shooting  across 
the  garden,  and  smashing  down  the  shrubbery. 
And  he  was  a  nice  sight,  was  that  unhappy  man, 
when  they  got  him  on  his  feet.  There  wasn't  a 
dry  thread  on  him  ;  and  his  hair  was  full  of  bits 
of  mackerel  ;  and  one  of  his  shoulders  was  out  of 
joint  ;  and  his  coat  was  split  the  whole  length  of 
the  back  ;  and  he  appeared  to  be  out  of  his  head. 
He  was  carried  in  the  house  by  some  of  the  men, 
and  laid  on  a  bed,  while  others  went  after  a  doctor  ; 
and  sixteen  women  assembled  in  the  front-room,  and 
talked  in  whispers  about  the  inscrutable  ways  of 
Providence,  and  what  a  warning  this  was  to  people 
who  never  looked  where  they  were  going. 


A     STARTLING     AFFAIR. 

A  HORSE  attached  to  the  cart  of  a  tin-peddler, 
while  on  Balmforth  Avenue,  Friday,  became  star- 
tled, and  ran  away  at  a  speed  that  was  marvellous  in 
a  tin-peddler's  horse.  The  wagon  was  old  and 
rickety  ;  and  the  horse  did  not  appear  to  be  in  a 
better  condition  of  repairs  :  but  both  of  them  got 
through  that  avenue  with  awful  velocity  ;  the  former 
hooping  its  spine,  and  shaking  its  head,  and  throw- 


COVILLE    CONVALESCES.  73 

ing  its  heels  uproariously ;  while  the  latter  reeled 
from  one  side  the  road  to  the  other,  and  bounded 
from  rut  to  rut,  and  threw  an  invoice  of  old  junk  and 
new  tinware  at  every  heave.  One  old  lady  was 
caught  around  the  neck  by  a  pair  of  satinet  pants, 
and  nearly  choked  to  death;  and  a  hoop-skirt,  badly 
damaged,  descended  over  the  head  of  a  man  who 
was  telling  a  neighbor  what  his  mother  rubbed  on 
sprains,  and  so  frightened  him,  that  he  fell  over  a 
barrel,  and  put  both  his  ankles  out  of  joint,  and  was 
bit  on  the  shoulder  by  the  dog  of  the  man  he  was 
trying  to  benefit.  The  horse,  having  filled  the  air 
with  boilers,  and  old  vests,  and  flatirons,  and  worth- 
less overalls,  and  brass  kettles,  and  broken-down 
gaiters,  suddenly  fetched  up  by  jumping  off  the 
bridge,  and  into  the  river,  dragging  the  wagon  and 
a  moth-eaten  undershirt  in  after  it. 


COVILLE    CONVALESCES. 

Since  the  unfortunate  accident  to  Mr.  Coville 
while  on  the  roof  counting  the  shingles,  he  has  been 
obliged  to  keep  pretty  close  to  the  house.  Last 
Wednesday,  he  went  out  in  the  yard  for  the  first 
time ;  and  on  Friday  Mrs.  Coville  got  him  an  easy- 
chair,  which  proved  a  great  comfort  to  him.  It 
is  one  of  those  chairs  that  can  be  moved  by  the 
occupant  to  form    almost    any  position  by  means 


74  MR.    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

of  ratchets.  Mr.  Coville  was  very  much  pleased 
with  this  new  contrivance,  and,  the  first  afternoon, 
did  nothing  but  sit  in  it,  and  work  it  all  ways. 
He  said  such  a  chair  as  that  did  more  good  in 
this  world  than  a  hundred  sermons.  He  had  it 
in  his  room, —  the  front  bed-room  up  stairs;  and 
there  he  would  sit  and  look  out  of  the  window, 
and  enjoy  himself  as  much  as  a  man  can  whose 
legs  have  been  ventilated  with  shot.  Monday 
afternoon  he  got  in  the  chair  as  usual.  Mrs. 
Coville  was  out  in  the  back-yard,  hanging  up 
clothes  ;  and  the  son  was  across  the  street,  draw- 
ing a  lath  along  a  picket-fence.  Sitting  down, 
he  grasped  the  sides  of  the  chair  with  both  hands 
to  settle  it  back,  when  the  whole  thing  gave  way, 
and  Mr.  Coville  came  violently  to  the  floor.  Foi 
an  instant,  the  unfortunate  gentleman  was  be- 
numbed by  the  suddenness  of  the  shock ;  but  the 
next,  he  was  aroused  by  an  acute  pain  in  each 
arm ;  and  the  great  drops  of  sweat  oozed  from  his 
forehead  when  he  found  that  the  little  finger  of 
each  hand  had  caught  in  the  ratchets,  and  was  as 
firmly  held  as  if  in  a  vice.  There  he  lay  on  his 
back,  with  the  end  of  a  round  sticking  in  his  side, 
and  both  hands  perfectly  powerless.  The  least 
move  of  his  body  aggravated  the  pain,  which  was 
chasing  up  his  arms.  He  screamed  for  help :  but 
Mrs.  Coville  was  in  the  back-yard,  telling  Mrs. 
Coney,    next   door,    that    she     didn't    know    what 


COVILLE    CONVALESCES.  75 

Coville  would  do  without  that  chair ;  and  so.  she 
didn't  hear  him.  He  pounded  the  floor  with  his 
stockinged  feet :  but  the  younger  Coville  was  still 
drawing  emotion  from  that  fence  across  the  way  ; 
and  all  other  sounds  were  rapidly  sinking  into 
insignificance.  Besides,  Mr.  Coville's  legs  were 
not  sufficiently  recovered  from  the  late  accident 
to  permit  their  being  profitably  used  as  mallets. 
How  he  did  despise  that  offspring!  and  how  fer- 
vently he  did  wish  the  owner  of  that  fence  would 
light  on  that  boy,  and  reduce  him  to  powder ! 
Then  he  screamed  again,  and  howled,  and  shouted 
"  Maria  !  "  But  there  was  no  response.  What  if 
he  should  die  there  alone,  and  in  that  awful  shape .-' 
The  perspiration  started  afresh,  and  the  pain  in 
his  arms  assumed  an  awful  magnitude.  Again 
he  shrieked  "  Maria !  "  but  the  matinee  across  the 
way  only  grew  in  volume  ;  and  the  unconscious 
wife  had  gone  into  Mrs.  Coney's,  and  was  trying 
on  that  lady's  redingote.  Then  he  prayed,  and 
howled,  and  coughed,  and  swore,  and  then  apolo- 
gized for  it,  and  prayed  and  howled  again,  and 
screamed  at  the  top  of  his  voice  the  awfullnst 
things  he  would  do  to  that  boy,  if  Heaven  would 
only  spare  him,  and  show  him  an  axe.  Then  he 
opened  his  mouth  for  one  final  shriek ;  when  the 
door  opened,  and  Mrs.  Coville  appeared  with  a 
smile  on  her  face,  and  Mrs.  Coney's  redingote  on 
her  back.     In  one  glance,  she  saw  that  something 


76  MR.     MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

awful  had  happened  to  Joseph  ;  and,  with  wonder- 
ful presence  of  mind,  she  screamed  for  help,  and 
then  fainted  away,  and  ploughed  headlong  into  his 
stomach.  Fortunately,  the  blow  deprived  him  of 
speech,  else  he  might  have  said  something  that  he 
would  ever  have  regretted  ;  and,  before  he  could 
regain  his  senses,  Mrs.  Coney  dashed  in,  and 
removed  the  grief-stricken  wife.  But  it  required  a 
blacksmith  to  cut  Coville  loose.  He  is  again  back 
in  bed,  with  his  mutilated  fingers  resting  on 
pillows ;  and  there  he  lies  all  day,  concocting  new 
forms  of  death  for  the  inventor  of  that  chair,  and 
hoping  nothing  will  happen  to  his  son  until  he  can 
get  well  enough  to  administer  it  himself. 


A     SERENADING     CATASTROPHE. 

Those  of  our  readers  acquainted  on  Monson 
Street  will  remember  that  the  roof  to  Mr.  Forceps's 
saloon  adjoins  his  house,  and  is  approached  by  two 
windows.  One  of  these  windows  is  in  Mr.  For- 
ceps's bedroom.  On  this  roof  Mrs.  Forceps  has 
spread  hesitating  tomatoes  with  a  view  to  hastening 
their  ripeness.  Last  Wednesday  she  put  five  more 
with  their  fellows,  making  thirty  in  all.  The  For- 
cepses  have  a  niece  visiting  with  them,  —  a  young 
lady  named  Hall,  of  Thomaston.  She  has  made  the 
acquaintance  of  many  of  our  young  people;  and 


A    SERENADING    CATASTROPHE.  77 

on  Wednesday  night  several  of  them  got  together 
to  give  her  a  serenade.  Providing  themselves  with 
requisite  instruments,  the  young  men  took  up  a 
position  near  this  addition  we  speak  of,  and  struck 
up  on  the  instruments.  Mrs.  Forceps  was  first 
awakened  by  the  music,  and  nudged  her  husband. 
He  also  awoke.  The  music  was  grand, — not  loud 
or  coarse,  but  soft,  low,  and  harmonious.  Mr. 
Forceps  was  very  much  pleased,  and  got  up  to  the 
window  to  hear  it.  Then  Mrs.  Forceps  got  up 
also,  and,  retying  her  night-cap,  stood  beside 
Forceps.  "  They're  serenading  Ellen,"  said  she. 
"  I  know  it,"  said  Forceps.  "  Who  can  they 
be.''"  she  asked.  "I  don't  know,  I'm  sure,"  said 
he  ;  "  but  I  suppose  I  could  find  out  if  I  could 
creep  out  on  the  roof  and  look  over."  —  *'  Why 
don't  you  ? "  said  she,  her  curiosity  increasing. 
"  Fm  afraid  they  might  see  me,"  he  said.  "  I  don't 
think  they  would,"  she  said.  "  They  wouldn't  be 
looking  up  on  the  roof,  would  they  .-' "  Mr.  For- 
ceps thought  a  moment,  and  then  concluded  no  one 
could  see  him,  as  the  moon  had  gone  into  a  bank 
of  clouds,  and  objects  were  quite  dim.  And  then 
he  softly  opened  the  blind,  and  cautiously  crawled 
out  on  the  shingles,  completely  incased  in  red 
flannel  under-clothes  and  a  night-cap  of  the  same 
rich  material.  The  music  still  continued,  coming 
up  through  the  night-ajr  in  waves  of  ecstatic  har- 
mony.    Mr.   Forceps  sat    down    on   the    roof,  and 


jS  MR.    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

laboriously  worked  his  way  to  the  eaves.  Then  he 
lifted  himself  up  to  turn  over  and  look  down  ;  and 
just  then  he  stepped  on  something  soft  and  yield- 
ing, felt  his  feet  give,  made  a  desperate  clutch  at 
the  shingles,  was  too  late,  gave  a  piercing  shriek, 
and  shot  off  the  roof,  and  went  revolving  and  howl- 
ing in  among  the  band,  followed  by  the  tomatoes, 
and  madly  cleaving  the  air  with  his  red-flannel 
limbs.  He  struck  on  his  back  on  the  bass-viol, 
and  with  one  leg  tore  the  entrails  from  an  accor- 
dion, and  with  the  other  knocked  all  the  keys  from 
a  silver-mounted  flute.  The  man  who  played  the 
bass-viol  was  driven  senseless  into  a  pile  of  pea- 
brush  ;  and  the  flute-player,  with  his  mouth  full  of 
blood  and  splinters,  jumped  over  the  fence,  and  fled. 
What  became  of  the  others  Mr.  Forceps  does  not 
know,  he  being  too  busily  engaged  in  getting  on 
his  feet,  and  into  the  house,  to  make  a  critical 
examination  of  the  field.  It  is  presumed  the  bass- 
viol  man  died  on  the  spot,  and  was  surreptitiously 
removed  and  buried  by  his  companions,  as  there 
was  no  sign  of  him  about  the  premises  in  the 
morninsf. 


OWNING  A  cow. 

The  man  across  the  way,  who  enjoyed  vegetables 
fresh  from  his  own  garden  through  the  summer, 
has  bought  a  cow.     His  wife  told  him  how  nice  it 


OWNING    A    COW.  79 

would  be  to  have  a  cow  on  the  premises,  so  as  to 
have  milk  fresh  and  pure  every  day,  and  always  in 
time,  and  always  in  abundance.  Then  they  could 
make  butter  themselves,  and  not  eat  the  rank  stuff 
out  of  the  store.  She  told  him  there  was  enough 
stuff  from  the  garden  and  table  to  almost  keep  the 
cow;  and  the  product  would  be  just  about  so  much 
clear  gain.  He  figured  it  up  himself  with  a  pencil, 
and  the  result  surprised  him.  He  wondered  why 
he  had  not  kept  a  cow  before,  and  inwardly  con- 
demned himself  for  the  loss  he  had  been  inflicting 
upon  himself.  Then  he  bought  a  cow.  In  the 
evening  of  its  arrival  he  went  out  to  milk  it ;  but 
the  animal  was  excited  by  the  strange  surround- 
ings, and  stepped  on  our  friend,  and  kicked  over 
his  pail,  and  nearly  knocked  one  of  his  eyes  out 
with  her  tail.  He  worked  at  the  experiment  for 
an  hour,  but  without  any  success.  Then  his  wife 
came  out  to  give  advice,  and  'his  son  came  out  to 
see  the  fun.  The  cow  put  one  of  her  heels  through 
the  woman's  dress,  and  knocked  the  boy  down  in 
the  mud,  which  ended  their  interest  in  the  matter. 
One  of  the  neighbors  milked  the  animal  that  night, 
and  came  around  the  next  morning  and  showed 
the  man  how  to  do  it.  The  third  day  the  cow 
escaped  the  surveillance  of  the  boy  who  was  left  to 
watch  her ;  and,  when  the  man  came  home  at  night, 
she  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  The  boy  had  also 
disappeared,  and  our  neighbor  found  he  was  obliged 


So  MR,    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

to  hunt  her  up  before  supper.  He  walked  around 
for  a  while,  and  then  returned  home ;  but  the 
animal  had  not  been  seen.  Then  he  went  off 
again,  and  made  a  very  thorough  search  ;  and  about 
ten  o'clock  that  night  he  came  back  with  the  cow, 
his  clothes  begrimed  with  perspiration  and  dust, 
and  his  face  flushed  and  scratched.  He  wanted  to 
kick  the  animal's  ribs  in  ;  but,  realizing  that  such 
a  course  would  result  in  pecuniary  damage,  he 
changed  his  mind.  The  boy  wishes  he  had  obeyed 
the  first  impulse.  On  the  fourth  day  they  churned, 
so  as  to  have  fresh  butter  for  the  table.  The 
mother  took  hold  of  the  dasher  first,  because,  she 
said,  she  used  to  do  it  when  a  girl,  and  liked  no 
better  sport,  She  pounded  away  until  she  caught 
a  crick  in  the  back  that  doubled  her  up  like  a  knife  ; 
and  then  she  put  the  heir  to  it.  He  had  been 
standing  around,  eagerly  waiting  for  a  chance,  and 
grumbling  because  he  didn't  get  it ;  and,  when  the 
dasher  was  placed  in  his  hand,  he  was  so  happy 
he  could  hardly  contain  himself.  He  pumped 
away  for  an  hour  at  it  ;  then  he  said,  if  he  had  to 
do  it  any  more,  he  would  run  away  and  be  a  robber. 
At  noon  the  man  came  home,  and  learned  the 
situation.  He  was  a  little  disgusted  at  the  "tom- 
foolery," as  he  called  it,  and  took  hold  the  churn 
himself,  and  made  it  bounce  for  a  while.  Then  his 
stomach  commenced  to  fall  in,  and  his  spine  to 
unjoint,  and  his  shoulders  to  loosen.     He  stopped 


AN    ASTONISHING    CURE. 


and  wiped  off  the  perspiration,  and  looked  around 
with  a  melancholy  cast  to  his  features,  and  went  at 
it  again.  The  butter  didn't  come,  however  ;  but 
every  thing  in  the  way  of  oratorical  effect  did. 
He  got  so  dreadfully  excited,  that  his  wife,  smell- 
ing strong  of  camphor,  took  the  dasher  away  from 
him,  and  went  to  work  herself.  At  this  the  son 
put  his  cap  under  his  jacket,  and  miraculously 
disappeared.  Later  in  the  day,  the  milk  was 
poured  around  the  grape-vine.  On  the  fifth  day 
the  cow  knocked  down  a  length  of  fence  to  the 
next  lot,  and  ate  all  the  oranges  from  a  tree  that 
stood  in  a  tub ;  and,  when  the  people  attempted  to 
drive  her  out,  she  carried  away  a  new  ivy  on  her 
horns,  knocked  down  a  valuable  vase  of  flowers, 
and  capped  the  climax  by  stumbling  over  a  box  of 
mosses,  and  falling  on  a  pile  of  hot-house  frames. 
On  the  sixth  day  our  neighbor  sold  his  cow  to  a 
butcher,  and  now  eats  strong  butter  which  comes 
from  the  store. 


AN    ASTONISHING    CURE. 

Here  is  something  remarkable.  A  woman  in 
New  Haven  was  recently  bereft  of  her  scalp  by 
the  idiosyncrasies  of  a  shaft  and  belt.  The  doc- 
tors saw,  that,  to  remedy  the  evil,  they  would  have 
to  have  recourse  to  transplanting ;  and  so  they 
actually  succeeded  in  getting  a  sufficient  number 


82  MR.     MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

of  pieces  from  other  people's  heads  to  give  this 
unfortunate  woman  a  new  scalp.  We  hope  those 
New-Haven  doctors  used  more  discretion  than  did 
he  who  attended  a  man  named  Finlay,  who  met 
with  a  similar  accident  in  Oriskany,  N.Y.,  some 
thirteen  years  ago.  Bits  of  scalp  from  seventeen 
different  persons  were  secured  by  this  doctor,  and 
adroitly  stitched  to  the  head  of  Mr.  Finlay.  When 
it  was  done,  people  came  miles  to  see  Finlay's 
head  ;  and  Finlay  himself,  with  his  checker-board 
cranium,  was  the  happiest  man  in  Oriskany.  But 
when  the  capillary  glands  got  in  working-order, 
and  the  hair  commenced  to  grow,  the  top  of  that 
man's  head  presented  the  most  extraordinary  spec- 
tacle on  record.  The  doctor,  who  was  about  half 
the  time  in  liquor,  had  consulted  expediency  rather 
than  judgment,  and  secured  that  new  scalp  without 
any  reference  to  future  developments.  We  never 
saw  any  thing  like  it.  Here  was  a  tuft  of  yellow 
hair,  and  next  to  it  a  bit  of  black,  and  then  a  flame 
of  red,  and  a  little  like  silk,  and  more  like  tow,  with 
brown  hair,  and  gray  hair,  and  sandy  hair,  and 
cream-colored  hair,  scattered  over  his  entire  skull. 
And  what  a  mad  man  that  P'inlay  was  !  and  nobody 
could  blame  him.  He  would  stand  up  against  the 
barn  for  an  hour  at  a  time,  and  sob  and  swear. 
It  was  very  fortunate  that  the  doctor  was  dead. 
He  went  off  two  weeks  before  with  blue  ague, 
which  is  a  mild  sort  of  disease.     Finlay  kept  his 


THE    HARBISONS'     BABY.  83 

haircut  short ;  but  that  didn't  make  any  difference. 
Then  he  tried  dyes  ;  but  they  only  made  matters 
worse.  Then  he  got  a  wig,  and  this  covered  up 
the  deformity  ;  but  sometimes  at  church  he  would 
get  asleep,  and  the  wig  would  fall  off,  and  make 
the  children  cry.  Once,  at  the  county  fair,  he  fell 
asleep,  and  the  wig  dropped  off ;  and  the  committee 
on  domestic  goods,  when  they  came  around,  stood  in 
front  of  Finlay's  head  for  some  five  minutes  rapt 
in  delight.  They  then  immediately  decided  that  it 
was  the  most  ingenious  piece  of  patchwork  in  the 
list,  and  never  discovered  the  mistake  until  they 
attempted  to  pin  the  premium  card  to  it.  At  that 
Finlay  awoke,  and  knocked  down  the  chairman  of 
the  committee,  and  chased  the  others  out  of  the 
building.  We  hope  those  New-Haven  doctors 
have  been  more  particular,  as  it  is  not  a  subject  to 
trifle  with. 


THE     HARBISONS'     BABY. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Harbison  had  just  finished 
their  breakfast.  Mr.  Harbison  had  pushed  back, 
and  was  looking  under  the  lounge  for  his  boots. 
Mrs.  Harbison  sat  at  the  table,  holding  the  infant 
Harbison,  and  mechanically  working  her  fore-finger 
in  its  mouth.  Suddenly  she  paused  in  the  motion, 
threw  the  astonished  child  on  its  back,  turned  as 
white  as  a  sheet,  pried  open  its  mouth,  and  imme 


84  MR.     MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

diately  gasped,  "  Ephraim  !  "  Mr.  Harbison,  who 
was  on  his  knees,  with  his  head  under  the  lounge, 
at  once  came  forth,  rapping  his  head  sharply  on 
the  side  of  the  lounge  as  he  did  so,  and,  getting 
on  his  feet,  inquired  what  was  the  matter.  "  O 
Ephraim  !  "  said  she,  the  tears  rolling  down  her 
cheeks,  and  the  smiles  coursing  up.  "  Why,  what 
is  it,  Armethea.''"  said  the  astonished  Mr.  Harbi- 
son, smartly  rubbing  his  head  where  it  had  come  in 
contact  with  the  lounge.  "Baby"  —  she  gasped. 
Mr.  Harbison  turned  pale,  and  commenced  to  sweat. 
"Baby  has —  Oh,  oh,  oh,  Ephraim!  Baby  has 
—  baby  has  got  a  tooth  !  "  —  "  No  !  "  screamed 
Mr.  Harbison,  spreading  his  legs  apart,  dropping 
his  chin,  and  staring  at  the  struggling  heir  with  all 
his  might.  "  I  tell  you  it  is,"  persisted  Mrs.  Har- 
bison, with  a  slight  evidence  of  hysteria.  "  Oh, 
oh,  it  can't  be ! "  protested  Mr.  Harbison,  prepar- 
ing to  swear  if  it  wasn't.  "  Come  here  and  see 
for  yourself,"  said  Mrs.  Harbison.  "  Open  its  'ittle 
mousy  wousy  for  its  own  muzzer  ;  that's  a  toody 
woody  ;  that's  a  b'essed  'ittle  'ump  o'  sugar."  Thus 
conjured,  the  heir  opened  its  mouth  sufficiently  for 
the  author  of  its  being  to  thrust  in  his  finger  ;  and 
that  gentleman,  having  convinced  himself  by  the 
most  indubitable  evidence  that  a  tooth  was  there, 
immediately  kicked  his  hat  across  the  room,  buried 
his  fist  in  the  lounge,  and  declared  with  much 
feeling  and  vehemence  that  he  could  lick  the  indi- 


THE   Harbisons'   baby.  85 

vidual  who  would  dare  to  intimate  that  he  was  not 
the  happiest  man  on  the  face  of  the  earth.  Then 
he  gave  Mrs.  Harbison  a  hearty  smack  on  the 
mouth,  and  snatched  up  the  heir;  while  that  lady- 
rushed  tremblingly  forth  after  Mrs.  Simmons,  who 
lived  next  door.  In  a  moment,  Mrs.  Simmons 
came  tearing  in  as  if  she  had  been  shot  out  of  a 
gun  ;  and  right  behind  her  came  Mrs.  Harbison  at 
a  speed  that  indicated  she  had  been  ejected  from 
two  guns.  Mrs.  Simmons  at  once  snatched  the 
heir  from  the  arms  of  Mr.  Harbison,  and  hurried  it 
to  the  window,  where  she  made  a  careful  and  criti- 
cal examination  of  its  mouth  ;  while  Mrs.  Harbi- 
son held  its  head,  and  tried  to  still  the  throbbings 
of  her  heart ;  and  Mr.  Harbison  danced  up  and 
down,  and  snapped  his  fingers,  to  show  how  calm 
he  was.  It  having  been  ascertained  by  Mrs.  Sim- 
mons that  the  tooth  was  a  sound  one,  and  also  that 
the  strongest  hopes  for  its  future  could  be  enter- 
tained on  account  of  its  coming  in  the  new  of  the 
moon,  Mrs.  Harbison  got  out  the  necessary  mate- 
rial, and  Mr.  Harbison  at  once  proceeded  to  write 
seven  different  letters  to  as  many  persons,  unfold- 
ing to  them  the  event  of  the  morning,  and  inviting 
them  to  come  on  as  soon  as  possible. 


86  MR,     MIGGS     OF     DANBURY. 


MR.    COVILLE     RENEWS     HIS     SINGING. 

That  is  a  very  beautiful  story  of  the  clergyman 
who  visited  an  insane-asylum,  and  was  attacked  by 
a  maniac,  but  who  broke  into  a  song,  and  sang  it  so 
clearly  and  sweetly,  that  the  maniac  was  subdued  ; 
and,  when  he  stopped  from  exhaustion,  the  maniac 
cried  for  more,  and  he  sang  more ;  and  the  maniac 
gave  up.  This  story  made  a  very  strong  impres- 
sion on  Mr.  Coville  of  this  village  ;  and,  the  more 
he  thought  of  it,  the  more  he  was  impressed  by  it. 
A  day  or  two  after  reading  this  beautiful  story, 
Mr.  Coville's  boy  caught  a  boy  named  Phillips 
near  the  foundry,  and  filled  his  hair  with  tar.  The 
boy  went  straight  home,  of  course,  with  his  shock- 
ing-looking head ;  and,  as  his  home  is  on  the  same 
street  as  that  of  the  Covilles,  Mr.  Phillips  hurried 
there  at  once.  He  vociferated  into  Mr.  Coville's 
ear  the  cause  of  his  visit,  and  requested  that  Mas- 
ter Coville  be  passed  out,  and  cut  up  between  them. 
Mr.  Coville  expressed  his  indignation  at  the  out- 
rage his  son  had  committed,  and  promised  to  pun- 
ish him  severely  for  it.  But  this  was  not  what  Mr. 
Phillips  wanted.  Instead  of  comforting  him,  the 
promise  appeared  to  irritate  him.  He  danced  out 
to  the  walk,  and  clutched  an  imaginary  boy  by  the 
hair,  and  struck  an  imaginary  boy  in  the  face  with 
a  ferocity  that  was  dreadful,  and  then  danced  back 
again,  and  howled  for  Master  Coville  to  be  brought 


MR.     COVILLE     RENEWS     HIS     SINGING.  87 

out.  Mr.  Coville  was  frightened  at  his  vehemence, 
and  sought  by  all  the  powers  of  persuasive  oratory 
to  soothe  him  ;  but  he  was  not  to  be  quelled.  At 
every  fresh  argument  he  repeated  his  singular 
demonstration,  with  such  intimidating  additions 
as  snapping  his  fingers,  and  shaking  his  fist  in  the 
face  of  his  neighbor.  Having  exhausted  his  reason- 
ing, and  Phillips  becoming  more  inflamed  all  the 
while,  Mr.  Coville  was  about  to  beat  a  retreat  for 
the  safety  of  his  own  person,  when  the  beautiful 
story  of  the  clergyman  and  the  maniac  suddenly 
flashed  into  his  mind.  Here  was  sure  and  unex- 
pected relief.  Mr.  Phillips  had  danced  down  to 
the  walk,  and  was  dancing  back,  with  a  half-dozen 
imaginary  boys  in  tow,  whom  he  was  belaboring  in 
a  most  murderous  manner  ;  but  Mr.  Coville  did 
not  mind  him.  He  felt  that  he  had  the  turbulent 
mass  of  passion  within  his  control  ;  and,  as  he  real- 
ized his  power,  a  faint  smile  of  triumph  and  pleas- 
ure stole  into  his  face.  Then  he  began  to  sing. 
It  is  years  since  Mr.  Coville  indulged  in  the  luxury 
of  vocal  music,  and  his  catalogue  of  pieces  is  nei- 
ther large  nor  varied  ;  but  he  took  up  the  first  one 
that  presented  itself,  and  rolled  it  out.  It  was  "A 
Life  on  the  Ocean  Wave,"  —  a  very  pretty  piece, 
and  quite  popular  when  Mr.  Coville  retired  from 
singing.  It  is  a  long  time,  as  we  have  said,  since 
Mr.  Coville  had  occasion  to  use  his  voice  ;  and  it 
worked  a  trifle  awkward  and  uneven  at  first  :  but 


88  MR.     MIGGS    OF     DANBURY. 

he  remembered  that  his  purpose  was  a  noble  one, 
and  he  did  not  shrink  from  criticism.  As  he 
advanced  in  the  song,  he  was  pleased,  but  not 
surprised,  to  see  Phillips  first  stare  at  him,  then 
drop  his  hands  at  his  side,  and  afterward  draw 
back,  and  look  around,  as  if  he  were  planning  an 
escape.  But  Mr.  Coville  did  not  stop :  he  gath- 
ered strength  as  he  proceeded  ;  and  turning  his 
eyes  to  heaven,  and  keeping  time  with  his  feet, 
roared  along  through  the  measure  with  amazing 
force.  He  had  got  up  on  the  highest  note  he 
could  find,  and  was  bursting  into  a  perfect  apoplec- 
tic howl  of  melody,  when  he  felt  himself  caught 
abruptly  by  the  collar,  and  the  next  instant  was 
made  aware  that  he  was  on  his  back  on  the  walk, 
and  that  a  man  looking  dreadfully  like  Phillips  was 
pounding  his  head  against  the  frozen  ground,  and 
doing  something  with  his  ribs  that  appeared  to  be 
uncalled  for.  Then  he  felt  himself  slide  through  a 
planing-mill,  and,  opening  his  eyes,  saw  that  Phil- 
lips was  gone,  and  that  Mrs.  Coville  was  trying  to 
get  him  on  his  feet.  In  this  direction  he  gave  her 
all  the  help  possible,  and,  getting  up,  looked  around 
for  the  planing-mill,  but,  not  seeing  it,  allowed  her 
to  lead  him  into  the  house.  To  all  her  questions 
she  could  get  no  answer  ;  but  occasionally,  while 
she  was  applying  the  liniment,  he  would  start 
up  with  "  A  Life  on  the  Ocean,"  and  then  sud- 
denly stop,  smile  faintly,  and  softly  rub  his  nose. 


I 


A    PROGRESSIVE    WOMAN.  89 

It  was  several  hours  before  he  acted  natural  again  ; 
but  aside  from  conceding  that  possibly  Phillips 
didn't  have  the  right  kind  of  madness,  or  he  him- 
self may  not  have  got  hold  of  the  right  tune,  he 
shows  no  disposition  to  converse  on  the  matter. 
Sunday  afternoon,  young  Coville,  to  be  smart,  and 
thinking  that  his  father  was  asleep  in  the  chair, 
undertook  to  start  the  tune  for  the  edification  of 
his  mother  ;  and  the  futility  of  that  air  for  enchain- 
ing an  audience  was  again  demonstrated  in  a  most 
signal  manner. 


A     PROGRESSIVE    WOMAN. 

We  are  inclined  to  think  Danbury  has  made  a 
stride  in  the  matter  of  woman's  rights  that  will 
astonish  everybody,  and  edify  many.  We  have  a 
woman  who  butchers.  We  might  have  worked 
around  to  this  declaration  in  an  elaborate  and 
interesting  introduction  ;  but  the  fact  is  so  amazing, 
that  we  could  not  write  with  any  calmness,  or  think 
with  any  precision,  with  it  staring  at  us.  This 
young  lady  is  about  to  marry ;  that  is,  she  is  en- 
gaged :  and  a  woman  m  Redding  is  weaving  her  a 
rag  carpet.  As  nothing  more  confirmatory  than 
this  can  be  produced,  we  feel  safe  in  affirming  that 
she  is  about  to  marry.  The  object  of  her  choice 
is  a  farmer.  The  farmer  does  his  own  killing,  as 
all  well-informed  farmers  do.     The  young  lady  is 


90  MR.     MIGGS     OF     DANBURY. 

aware  of  this  fact ;  and,  in  her  strong  devotion  to 
the  farmer,  she  is  learning  to  butcher.  Every  Fri- 
day afternoon,  she  accompanies  one  of  our  butchers, 
a  personal  friend,  to  the  slaughter.  Here,  with  her 
dress  pinned  up,  her  sleeves  rolled,  and  her  hat  very 
much  on  one  side  of  her  head,  she  flits  about  in 
the  midst  of  the  thrilling  gore,  and  unimpassioned 
tallow,  and  so  forth.  She  has  already  killed  foui 
lambs,  cutting  their  throats  so  artistically  as  to 
charm  the  burly  butcher  beyond  all  description,  and 
to  fill  every  well-balanced  mind  with  reverential  ad- 
miration. Next  Friday  she  tries  her  maiden  hand 
on  a  small  calf,  and  expects  to  extract  the  vital  spark 
from  its  body  in  a  way  that  will  win  its  eternal 
gratitude.  In  dressing  bullocks  —  or  rather  in  un- 
dressing them  —  she  is  becoming  quite  an  adept; 
and  already  excels  the  butcher's  boy,  who  has  been 
in  the  business  for  nearly  a  year.  But  she  particu- 
larly shines  when  the  animal's  throat  is  cut,  and 
with  the  animal's  tail  in  her  hand,  and  her  neatly 
gaitered  foot  on  the  animal's  side,  she  pumps  the 
life-current  out  of  the  dying  body.  The  butcher 
says  she  looks  like  an  angel  then  ;  and  we  can 
readily  understand  how  she  does.  In  a  week  or 
two  she  will  try  her  hand  at  knocking  down  a  bul- 
lock, and  will  be  successful,  without  doubt.  But  we 
hope,  and  we  are  unselfish  in  the  expression  of  it, 
that  the  laurels  she  is  winning  will  not  turn  her 
head,  and  fill  her  with  aspirations  above  her  station. 


NOT    AS     HIS     MOTHER     DID.  9I 


It  will  be  a  sad  day  for  the  farmer  if  success  thus 
affects  her :  it  will  be  a  worse  day  for  her.  Better 
that  she  had  never  known  the  delicious  sensation 
of  prodding  a  lamb's  throat,  or  the  wondrous  power 
of  pumping  gore.  But  we  envy  the  young  farmer 
the  mellow  Sunday  evenings  in  her  society,  the 
beaming  of  her  slaughter-house  eyes,  and  her  ten- 
der discourse  upon  hides,  leaf-lard,  tripe,  plucks, 
and  other  bits  of  scenery.  To  press  the  lips  which 
have  caressed  a  gory  knife,  and  to  clasp  the  delicate 
fingers  which  have  ploughed  through  the  steaming 
contents  of  a  defunct  animal,  is  an  ecstasy  that 
no  one  can  calmly  contemplate  —  on  a  full  stomach. 


NOT     AS     HIS     MOTHER     DID. 

No  man  shows  his  insignificance  and  utter  use- 
lessness  about  the  house  to  such  a  degree  as  when 
his  wife  is  mopping  up.  Pie  feels  this,  and  so  does 
she;  and  he  knows  she  feels  it,  which  is  worse  still. 
To  offer  an  adverse  remark  on  such  an  occasion  is 
about  as  insane  an  enterprise  as  an  individual  can 
embark  upon.  But  a  Patch-street  man  did  it  Satu: 
(lay.  His  wife  was  mopping  the  kitchen-floor,  and  he 
was  moving  about  the  room  to  keep  out  of  the  way 
of  the  wet  mop,  when  he  unhappily  observed  that 
that  wasn't  the  way  his  mother  did  it.  It  was  done 
in  a  flash.     There  was  a  sharp  report,  as  if  three 


92  MR.    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

pounds  of  very,  wet  and  very  dirty  cloths  had  settled 
across  a  human  face  ;  and  in  the  same  instant  a  man 
went  over  a  chair,  and  half  way  under  a  table,  look- 
ing very  much  as  if  a  mud  volcano  had  kicked  him 
in  the  head. 


AFTER     THE     FUNERAL. 

It  was  just  after  the  funeral.  The  bereaved  and 
subdued  widow,  enveloped  in  millinery  gloom,  was 
seated  in  the  sitting-room  with  a  few  sympathizing 
friends.  There  was  that  constrained  look  so  pecu- 
liar to  the  occasion  observable  on  every  counte- 
nance.    The  widow  sighed. 

"  How  do  you  feel,  my  dear  .''  "  observed  her  sister. 

"  Oh !  I  don't  know,"  said  the  poor  woman,  with 
difficulty  restraining  her  tears.  "  But  I  hope  every 
thing  passed  off  well." 

"  Indeed  it  did,"  said  all  the  ladies. 

"  It  was  as  large  and  respectable  a  funeral  as  I 
have  seen  this  winter,"  said  the  sister,  looking 
around  upon  the  others. 

"  Yes,  it  was,"  said  the  lady  from  next  door.  "  I 
was  saying  to  Mrs.  Slocum,  only  ten  minutes  ago, 
that  the  attendance  couldn't  have  been  better,  — 
the  bad  going  considered." 

"  Did  you  see  the  Taylors  ? "  asked  the  widow 
famtly,  looking  at  her  sister.  "  They  go  so  rarely 
to  funerals,  that  I  was  quite  surprised  to  see  them 
here." 


AFTER    THE    FUNERAL.  93 

"  Oh,  yes  !  the  Taylors  were  all  here,"  said  the 
sympathizing  sister.  "  As  you  say,  they  go  but  a 
little  :  they  are  so  exclusive  !  " 

"  I  thought  I  saw  the  Curtises  also,"  suggested 
the  bereaved  woman  droopingly. 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  chimed  in  several.  "  They  came  in 
their  own  carriage  too,"  said  the  sister  animatedly. 
"  And  then  there  were  the  Randalls,  and  the  Van 
Rensselaers.  Mrs.  Van  Rensselaer  had  her  cousin 
from  the  city  with  her  ;  and  Mrs.  Randall  wore  a 
very  heavy  black  silk,  which  I  am  sure  was  quite 
new.  Did  you  see  Col.  Haywood  and  his  daugh- 
ters, love .'' ' 

"  I  thought  I  saw  them  ;  but  I  wasn't  sure.  They 
were  here,  then,  were  they  .-'" 

"  Yes,  indeed  !  "  said  they  all  again ;  and  the  lady 
who  lived  across  the  way  observed,  — 

"  The  colonel  was  very  sociable,  and  inquired 
most  kindly  about  you,  and  the  sickness  of  your 
husband." 

The  widow  smiled  faintly.  She  was  gratified  by 
the  interest  shown  by  the  colonel. 

The  friends- now  rose  to  go,  each  bidding  her 
good-by,  and  expressing  the  hope  that  she  would 
be  calm.  Her  sister  bowed  them  out.  When  she 
returned,  she  said,  — 

"You  can  see,  my  love,  what  the  neighbors  think 
of  it.  I  wouldn't  have  had  any  thing  unfortunate 
happen  for  a  good  deal.  But  nothing  did.  The 
arrangements  couldn't  have  been  better." 


94  MR.     MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

"  I  think  some  of  the  people  in  the  neighbor- 
hood must  have  been  surprised  to  see  so  many  of 
the  up-town  people  here,"  suggested  the  afflicted 
woman,  trying  to  look  hopeful. 

"  You  may  be  quite  sure  of  that,"  asserted  the 
sister.  "  I  could  see  that  plain  enough  by  their 
looks." 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  there  is  no  occasion  for  talk," 
said  the  widow,  smoothing  the  skirt  of  her  dress. 

And  after  that  the  boys  took  the  chairs  home, 
and  the  house  was  put  in  order. 


At  a  recent  political  caucus  in  Danbury,  one  of 
the  members  was  on  the  floor,  lining  out  a  bold, 
aggressive  policy  for  the  campaign,  when  a  little 
boy  pulled  him  by  the  coat,  and  said  in  quite 
audible  tones,  — 

"  Ma  says,  that,  if  you  don't  hurry  home  with 
them  prunes,  she'll  lock  the  door,  an'  you'll  have 
to  sleep  in  the  street." 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  orator,  picking  up  his  hat, 
"  I'll  just  step  around  among  the  people  to  feel  the 
public  pulse,  and  will  meet  you  on  the  gory  field  of 
battle." 

Then  he  hurried  home  with  the  prunes. 


A    SMART    WOMAN.  95 

A     SMART    WOMAN. 

Ladies  who  have  husbands  who  are  neglectful 
in  supplying  them  with  kinclHngs  should  carefully 
study  the  experience  of  a  Division-street  sister. 
All  her  married  life  she  has  had  an  unbroken 
struggle  with  her  husband  to  keep  herself  supplied 
with  wood,  and  the  greater  part  of  the  time  she 
has  been  obliged  to  depend  upon  her  own  deftness 
with  the  axe  ;  and  any  one  who  has  seen  a  woman 
handle  an  axe  knows  what  a  dreadful  thing  it  is. 
Two  months  ago,  she  begged  of  him  not  to  go 
away  without  leaving  her  some  kindlings.  He 
said  he  wouldn't ;  but  he  finally  did.  Then  she 
hit  upon  a  plan.  She  had  four  dozen  clothes-pins. 
She  took  one  dozen  of  them  for  starting  the  fire, 
and  found  they  worked  admirably.  The  next  day 
^he  used  another  dozen  ;  and  so  she  continued,  until 
the  four  dozen  were  gone.  Then  she  went  to  the 
store,  and  purchased  another  four  dozen,  having 
them  "  put  in  the  bill."  When  they  were  gone, 
she  repeated  the  errand.  She  said  no  more  to  him 
about  kindlings.  For  ten  years  she  had  kept  up 
the  battle;  and  now  she  was  tired  and  sick  at  heart. 
He  could  go  his  own  way,  and  she  would  go  hers, 
patiently,  uncomplainingly,  until  the  end  would 
come. 

On  Monday  he  signified  at  the  store  that  he 
would    like  to   settle    his    account.     The    bill   was 


96  MR.    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 


made  out,  and  handed  him.  He  glanced  down  the 
items.  As  he  advanced  along  the  column,  his  face 
began  to  work.  First  his  eyes  slowly  enlarged  ; 
then  his  mouth  gradually  opened,  caused  by  the 
drooping  of  his  lower  jaw ;  and  wrinkles  formed 
on  his  forehead.  One-third  down  the  column,  he 
formed  his  lips  as  if  to  whistle.  Four  lines  below, 
he  did  whistle.     Half  way  down  he  said,  — 

"  Gra-cious  !  " 

A  little  farther  on  he  said,  — 

"  Thunder ! " 

Four  more  lines  were  taken  in,  and  he  spoke 
again,  — 

"  By  the  Jumping  Jupiter  ! " 

Then  he  read  on,  smiting  his  thigh  vigorously, 
and  giving  vent  to  various  expressions  of  the  liveli- 
est nature.     Finally  he  threw  the  bill  down. 

"  I  say,  Benson,  look  here.  This  bill  can't  be 
mine  :  you've  got  me  mixed  up  with  some  laun- 
dry." 

"That's  your  bill,  sir,"  said  the  grocer,  smiling 
pleasantly. 

"  I  tell  you  it  can't  be,"  persisted  the  Division- 
street  man,  beginning  to  look  scared,  "  Why, 
here's  fifty-five  dozen  clothes-pins  in  a  two-months 
bill.  What  on  earth  do  you  take  me  for,  —  a  four- 
story  laundry  ? " 

"  But  it  is  your  bill.  Your  wife  can  explain  it  to 
you.     She  ordered  the  pins." 


A    SMART    WOMAN.  97 

"  My  wife  !  "  gasped  the  unfortunate  man. 

"Yes,  sir." 

The  debtor  clutched  the  bill,  jammed  it  into  his 
pocket,  and  hurried  straight  home.  He  bolted 
into  the  house  without  any  abatement  of  speed, 
and,  flinging  the  paper  on  the  table  before  his 
wife,  knocked  his  hat  on  the  back  of  his  head,  and 
said,  — 

"  Martha  Ann  Johnson,  what  does  this  mean } 
There  are  fifty-five  dozen  clothes-pins  in  Benson's 
bill  for  the  past  two  months  ;  and  he  says  you 
ordered  every  blessed  one  of  them." 

"And  so  I  did,"  said  she  demurely. 

"  W-h-at  !  fifty-five  dozen  clothes-pins  in  two 
months  !  "  and  he  shot  down  into  a  chair  as  if  a 
freight-car  had  fallen  atop  of  him.  "  Fifty-five 
dozen  clothes-pins  in  two  months ! "  he  howled. 
"  Will  a  just  Heaven  stand  that .-"  " 

"  I  tell  you,  you  needn't  stare  at  me  that  way, 
Reuben  Wheeler  Johnson,  nor  go  to  calling  onto 
Heaven  with  your  impiousness.  I  ordered  them 
clothes-pins  myself ;  and  I  have  burnt  every  one  of 
'em  in  that  there  stove,  just  because  you  were  too 
all-fired  lazy  to  get  a  stick  of  wood.  And  I  declare, 
before  I'll  be  bothered  jawing  and  fighting  to  get 
you  to  cut  wood,  I'll  burn  up  every  clothes-pin  in 
the  land ;  and  you  shall  pay  for  them,  if  you  have 
to  sell  the  shirt  on  your  back  to  do  it.     So  now  !  " 

And    Mrs.    Johnson,    with    a   face   like    scarlet, 


98  MR.     A/IIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

snatched  up  the  broom,  and  went  to  sweeping  the 
carpet  as  if  every  flake  of  dust  was  a  red-hot  coal  ; 
while  the  unhappy  Mr.  Johnson  hastened  to  the 
store,  and  paid  the  bill ;  and  before  dark,  that 
night,  he  had  a  half-cord  of  wood  sawed,  split,  and 
piled  up  ready  for  use. 


A     DANBURY    SPELLING-SCHOOL. 

An  impromptu  spelling-school  was  inaugurated 
in  Merrill's  grocery  Saturday  evening.  A  young 
man,  who  last  winter  aided  Mr.  Couch  in  the  man- 
agement of  the  North  Centre  School,  conducted 
the  class.     The  first  word  he  gave  out  was  Indian. 

The  first  man  said,  "  I-n,  in,  d-i-n,  din,  —  Indin." 

The  teacher  shook  his  head.  "  Well,  I  declare  ! 
I  thot  I  had  it,"  said  the  speller  with  keen  disap- 
pointment; but  he  picked  up  when  the  second  man 
started,  and  eyed  him  with  considerable  anxiety. 

The  next  man  with  desperate  earnestness  said, 
"  I-n,  in,  d-e,  de,  inde,  u-n,  un,  —  Indeun." 

Then  he  sighed,  and  gazed  anxiously  at  the 
teacher ;  while  an  old  party  at  the  end  of  the  bench, 
who  was  watching  the  efforts  with  derisive  amuse- 
ment, turned  the  quid  in  his  mouth,  and  said,  — 

"You  ain't  in  a  rod  on't.  But  go  on:  let's  see 
more  try." 

The  teacher  told  the  second  speller  that  he,  also, 
had  failed ;  whereupon  he  sighed  again. 


A    DANBURY    SPELLING-SCHOOL.  99 

Then  the  third  man  took  hold.  He  squared 
himself  upon  his  scat,  and,  holding  up  one  finger, 
ticked  off  the  letters  with  becoming  solemnity,  as 
follows:  "  I-n,  in,  d-d-d-a,  da,  inda, —  i-n,  in, — 
Indain." 

The  old  party  on  the  end  of  the  bench,  who  had 
been  teetering  on  the  precipice  of  a  laugh  while 
this  effort  was  being  put  forth,  snickered  right  out 
in  a  loud  guffaw  at  its  conclusion. 

"  Well,  that's  a  spell  for  you,  I  mus'  say."  And 
then  he  laughed  again.  The  speller  said  nothing  ; 
but  he  grew  very  red  in  the  face  when  his  failure 
was  announced,  and  cast  a  baleful  glance  at  the  old 
party,  whose  turn  had  now  come,  and  who  said,  — 

"  You  people  should  keep  away  from  Oheo,  you 
should.  And  now  I'll  tackle  that  little  word;" 
and  he  smiled  all  over  his  face,  while  his  eyes 
twinkled  with  merriment  ;  and,  looking  sideways 
from  one  to  the  other,  he  rapidly  spelled,  — 

"  I-n,  in,  g-i-n,  gin,  —  Ingin." 

His  smile  deepened  into  a  broad  grin  as  he 
watched  the  chagrin  fiush  to  the  countenances  of 
the  other  spellers,  who  had  been  misled  all  the  time 
on  a  wrong  pronunciation  of  the  word.  He  was 
grinning  with  all  his  might,  when  the  teacher 
said,  — 

"You  ain't  got  the  right  word." 

"  Wh — ah — ot  .-*  "  and  he  bore  down  on  the 
brazen-faced  young  man  a  look  calculated  to  freeze 
him  to  the  bone. 


MR.     MIGGS     OF     DANBURY. 


'•  Indian  is  the  word.  There  is  no  such  word  as 
Ingin,"  said  the  teacher. 

"  Oh !  there  isn't,  hey .'' "  (sarcastically.)  "  You  know, 
of  course.     You  know  all  about  it,  you  pimply  "  — 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,  I  "  — 

"You  needn't  apologize  to  me!"  shouted  the  old 
party,  stamping  the  floor  with  his  cane.  "  Who  be 
you,  anyway,  putting  on  your  airs  about  me .''  I 
could  twist  your  scrawny  neck  off  of  you  in  two 
minutes,  you  white-livered  puppy,  you  !  " 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,  let  me  ex  "  — 

"  It  isn't  Ingin,  is  it  ?  "  ground  out  the  old  chap  m 

between  his  teeth.  "  It's  somethin'  else,  I  suppose. 
Oh,  yes !  you  know,  of  course.  And  a  nice  one 
you  are  with  your  eddication  !  Why  don't  your 
mother  send  back  them  apples  she  borrowed  a 
month  ago .' "  and  he  looked  around  the  store  with 
a  triumphant  glare  of  sarcasm. 

"  But  just  hear  me  "  ~ 

"  I/ear  you !     Who   are  you,  anyway  .■'     What's  m 

your  father  .''     When's  he  drawed  a  sober  breath,  I'd  ^ 

like  to  know  ?  An'  where's  your  smart  brother 
Ben  .'  In  pris'n  somewhere,  I'll  be  bound.  Oh ! 
I  know  your  hull  family  like  a  book ;  and  a  wuss 
lot  than  they  are  can't  be  found  in  this  neighbor- 
hood;  and  you  just  put  that  in  your  pipe  and 
smoke  it,  you  egregious  ass  I  Talk  to  uic  about 
spellin'  !  "  And  the  old  man,  stamping  his  cane 
again,  stalked  passionately  out  of  the  store. 

The  lesson  was  then  postponed. 


A     LAZY     BOY  S     LOAD. 


A     LAZY     BOY'S     LOAD. 

Young  Coville  is  bringing  in  wood.  Watch 
him.  The  wood  lies  by  the  saw-buck.  There  are 
two  good  armfuls  of  it  ;  but  he  is  going  to  bring  it 
all  in  at  once.  That  is  the  better  way,  as  it  saves 
one  trip.  Pie  is  getting  it  upon  his  arm  with  great 
difficulty.  The  pile  rises  rapidly.  It  is  all  up  but 
a  few  sticks  ;  and  he  has  to  steady  himself  with  a 
great  effort  while  feeling  around  for  them.  Each 
piece  comes  harder  than  its  predecessor.  The 
bottom  sticks  are  apparently  cutting  into  the  flesh 
of  his  arm  ;  and  one  at  the  top  is  pressing  most 
painfully  against  his  cheek.  He  is  sitting  on  his 
haunches  in  a  disagreeable  position,  the  increasing 
weight  making  his  knee-joints  ache.  The  dizzy 
pile  is  held  in  place  only  by  the  severest  effort  of 
both  brain  and  muscle.  The  slightest  false  motion 
would  topple  it  to  the  ground.  He  realizes  it.  All 
the  color  in  his  body  is  in  his  face,  and  the  cords 
thereof  are  drawn  to  the  utmost  tension.  His 
eyes  glow  like  a  flame.  He  can't  find  that  last 
stick.  Slowly  the  right  hand  circles  around,  feel- 
ing carefully  for  it.  His  eyes  are  bright  ;  but  they 
are  ranged  over  the  load  on  his  arm,  and  the  very 
nearest  approach  they  can  make  to  the  scene  is  the 
distant  horizon.  Still  he  skirmishes  about  with 
the  right  hand.  A  moisture  is  beginning  to  well 
up  in  the  bright  orbs,   making  the   horizon  indis- 


ro2 


MR.     MIGGS     OF     DANBURY. 


tinct.  The  muscles  nearest  the  mouth  are  com- 
mencing to  slacken,  and  the  under-lip  slightly 
trembles.  It  is  noticeable  that  the  right  hand  is 
losing  its  caution,  and  growing  a  trifle  impulsive. 
Its  circles  are  sharper,  and  less  in  symmetry.  He 
has  gone  over  all  the  ground  in  reach.  He  bends 
apprehensively  forward  for  more  territory.  There 
is  a  wavier,  then  another,  a  sudden  plunge  for 
recovery,  and  over  goes  the  pile  ;  and  a  boy  with 
passion-distorted  face  is  blindly  kicking  the  inof- 
fensive sticks.  Then  the  back-door  opens  ;  and  he 
suddenly  stops,  and  glares  morosely  at  the  wreck. 

"  William  Henry  !  "  exclaims  a  shrill  voice,  "  are 
you  going  to  be  all  night  bringing  in  that  wood  .-•  " 

"  Go  in  the  house  !  "  he  mutters  under  his  breath. 

"  What's  that  you  say  to  me,  young  man  ? " 

"  I  said  I'm  comin's  quick's  I  could,"  he  hastily 
but  frankly  explains.  "  Do  you  s'pose  I  can  help 
it  'cause  the  wood  tips  over  when  I  get  it  piled 
up  f 

"  What  do  you  try  to  carry  so  much  for,  then  .''  " 
she  properly  asks.  "  You  bring  along  part  of  that 
wood,  and  go  after  the  rest  pretty  quick,  or  I'll 
send  your  father  out  to  you  ; "  and  the  door  slams 
again. 

Does  he  take  in  part  of  it  ?  Never.  His  heart 
may  be  wrung,  and  the  tears  flow  like  rain  ;  but  he 
will  carry  all  that  wood  in  at  once,  if  it  takes 
five  years.     It  was  a  mere  caprice  then  ;  but  it   is 


i 


THE    DUTIFUL    BOY.  103 

principle  now.  He  goes  over  the  same  perform- 
ance again,  and  he  repeats  it  until  he  masters  every 
stick,  and  rises,  reeling,  to  his  feet.  Then  he 
stumbles  painfully  up  the  path,  his  breath  coming- 
quick  and  strong,  his  eyes  bulging,  and  his  knees 
almost  screaming  out  with  the  ache  they  are  endur- 
ing. He  can't  see  the  stoop,  and  hardly  any  thing 
of  the  house  but  the  roof.  He  staggers  up  the 
steps,  and  kicks  violently  against  the  door.  It  is 
opened  by  his  impatient  and  thoroughly  disgusted 
mother  ;  but  the  exertion  has  fatally  disturbed  the 
poise  of  the  pile.  One  stick  comes  thundering  to 
the  floor,  then  another,  and  another.  He  makes  a 
desperate  effort  to  reach  the  wood-box  with  the 
rest  of  the  load  ;  but  piece  after  piece  comes  crash- 
ing down,  arousing  the  whole  family,  and  nearly 
driving  his  mother  insane.  He  reaches  the  box. 
He  may  not  have  one-half  the  load  on  his  arm  ; 
but  he  brought  it  all  in  at  once,  thank  Heaven  ! 


THE    DUTIFUL    BOY. 

This  was  on  Pine  Street,  Saturday.  The  central 
figure  was  a  bareheaded  woman,  with  a  broom  in 
her  hand.  She  stood  on  the  back-stoop,  and  was 
crying,  "  Georgie!  " 

There  was  no  response  ;  but  anybody  who  had 
been  on  the  other  side  of  a  close  board  fence  at 


I04  MR.    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

the  foot  of  the  garden  might  have  observed  two 
boys  intently  engaged  in  building  a  mud-pie. 

"  That's  your  mother  hollering,  Georgie,"  said 
one  of  the  two,  placing  his  eye  to  a  knot-hole,  and 
glancing  through  to  the  stoop. 

"  I  don't  care,"  said  the  other. 

"  Ain't  you  going  in .-'  " 

"  No." 

"  George  !  "  came  another  call,  short  and  sharp, 
"  do  you  hear  me  .-*  " 

There  was  no  answer. 

"  Where  is  she  now  ? "  inquired  Georgie,  putting 
in  the  filling  of  the  pie. 

"  On  the  stoop,"  replied  the  young  man  at  the 
knot-hole. 

"  What's  she  doin'  ?  " 

"  Ain't  doin'  nothin'." 

"  George  Augus///j  .' " 

Still  no  answer. 

"  You  needn't  think  you  can  hide  from  me, 
young  man,  for  I  can  see  you  ;  and,  if  you  don't 
come  in  here  at  once,  I'll  come  out  there  in  a  way 
that  you  will  know  it." 

Now,  this  was  an  eminently  natural  statement, 
but  hardly  plausible,  as  her  eyes  would  have  had 
to  pierce  an  inch-board  fence  to  see  Georgie  ;  and, 
even  were  this  possible,  it  would  have  required  a 
glance  in  that  special  direction,  and  not  over  the. 
top    of    a   pear-tree   in   an   almost   opposite   way. 


THE     DUTIFUL    BOY.  I05 

Even  the  boy  at  the  knot-hole  could  hardly  repress 
a  smile. 

"  What's  she  doin'  now?  "  inquired  Georgie. 

"  She  stands  there  yet." 

"  I  won't  speak  to  you  again,  George  Augustus," 
came  the  voice.  "  Your  father  will  be  home  in  a 
few  minutes,  and  I  shall  tell  him  all  about  what 
you  have  done." 

Still  no  answer. 

"  Ain't  you  afraid  .-' "  asked  the  conscientious 
young  man,  drawing  his  eye  from  the  knot-hole  to 
rest  it. 

"  Noah  !  She  won't  tell  pa  ;  she  never  does  :  she 
only  sez  it  to  scare  me." 

Thus  enlightened  and  re-assurcd,  the  guard  cov- 
ered the  knot-hole  again. 

"  Ain't  you  coming  in  here,  young  man  }  "  again 
demanded  the  woman  ;  "  or  do  you  want  me  to 
come  out  there  to  you  with  a  stick  .-*  I  won't  speak 
to  you  again,  sir !  " 

"  Is  she  comin'  ? "  asked  the  baker. 

"  No." 

"  Which  way  is  she  lookin'  ?  " 

"  She's  lookin'  over  in  the  other  yard." 

"  Do  you  hear  me,  I  say  ?  "  came  the  call  again. 

No  answer, 

"  George  Augustus  !  do  you  hear  your  mother 
talking  to  you  .-*  " 

Still  no  answer. 


Io6  MR.     MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

"  Oh  !  you  just  wait,  young  man,  till  your  father 
comes  home,  and  he'll  make  you  hear,  I'll  warrant 

ye-" 

"  She  is  gone  in  now,"  announced  the  faithful 
sentinel,  withdrawing  from  his  post. 

"  All  right  !  Take  hold  of  this  crust,  and  pull  it 
down  on  that  side,  and  that'll  be  another  pie  done," 
said  the  remorse-stricken  George  Augustus. 


ENJOYING     THEIR     CHURCH     PRIVILEGES. 

It  was  after  the  evening  service.  Mrs.  Coonton 
and  the  three  Misses  Coonton  had  arrived  home. 
They  sat  listlessly  around  the  room  with  their  things 
on.  Mr.  Coonton  was  lying  on  the  lounge,  asleep. 
It  had  been,  undoubtedly,  an  impressive  sermon,  as 
the  ladies  were  silent,  busy  with  their  thoughts. 

"  Emmeline,"  said  Mrs.  Coonton,  suddenly  ad- 
dressing her  eldest,  "  did  you  see  Mrs.  Parker 
when  she  came  in  ?" 

"  Yes,  ma,"  replied  Emmeline. 

"  She  didn't  have  that  hat  on  last  Sunday,  did 
she  .? " 

"  No,"  said  Emmeline.  "  It  is  her  new  hat.  I 
noticed  it  the  moment  she  went  down  the  aisle; 
and  I  says  to  Sarah, '  What  on  earth  possesses  Mrs. 
Parker  to  wear  such  a  hat  as  that  ? '  says  I." 

"  Such  a  great  prancing  feather  on  such  a  little 


ENJOYING    THEIR    CHURCH     PRIVILEGES.    I07 


hat  looked  awful  ridiculous.  I  thought  I  should 
laugh  right  out  when  I  saw  it,"  observed  Sarah. 

"  I  don't  think  it  looked  any  worse  than  Mary 
Schuyler's,  with  the  flaring  red  bow  at  the  back," 
said  Amelia. 

"  I  don't  see  what  Mrs.  Schuyler  can  be  think- 
ing  of,  to  dress  Mary  out  like  that,"  said  Mrs. 
Coonton  with  a  sigh.  "  Mary  must  be  older  than 
Sarah  ;  and  yet  she  dresses  as  if  she  was  a  mere 
child." 

"  She's  nearly  a  year  older  than  I  am,"  asserted 
Sarah. 

"  Did  you  see  how  the  Widow  Marshall  was 
trucked  out }  "  interrupted  Emmeline.  "  She  was 
as  gay  as  a  peacock.  Mercy !  what  airs  that 
woman  puts  on  !  I  would  like  to  have  asked  her 
when  she's  going  to  bring  back  that  pan  of  flour;" 
and  Emmeline  tittered  maliciously. 

"  She's  shining  around  old  McMasters,  they  say," 
mentioned  Amelia. 

"Old  McMasters!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Coonton. 
"  Why,  he  is  old  enough  to  be  her  father !  " 

"  What  difference  do  you  suppose  that  makes  to 
her  ?  "  suggested  Emmeline.  "  She'd  marry  Me- 
thuselah. But  I  pity  him  if  he  gets  her.  She's  a 
perfect  wildcat." 

"  Say,  Em,  who  was  that  gentleman  with  Ellen 
Byxby  .-'"  inquired  Amelia. 

"That's  so,"  chimed  in  Sarah  with  spirit:  "who 
was  he  .■' " 


lo8  MR.     MIGGS    OF    DANfeURY. 

"  What  gentleman  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Coonton. 

"  Why,  I  don't  know  who  it  was,"  explained 
Emmeline. 

"  They  came  in  during  the  prayer.  He  was  a 
tall  fellow,  with  light  hair  and  chin-whiskers." 

"  It  couldn't  have  been  her  cousin  John  from 
Brooklyn,"  suggested  Mrs.  Coonton. 

"Bother,  no!"  said  Sarah  pettishly.  "He  is 
short,  and  has  brown  hair.  This  gentleman  is  a 
stranger  here.     I  wonder  where  she  picked  him 

up-" 

"  She  seemed  to  keep  mighty  close  to  him,"  said 

Amelia.  "  But  she  needn't  be  scared  :  no  one  will 
take  him,  unless  they  are  pretty  hard  pushed.  He 
looks  as  soft  as  squash.  Did  you  see  him  tum- 
bling up  his  hair  with  his  fingers  .-•  I  wonder  what 
that  big  ring  cost,  —  two  cents  .-*  "  and  the  speaker 
tittered. 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  if  she's  got  company,"  said  Mrs. 
Coonton  kindly.  "  She's  made  efforts  enough  to 
get  some  one,  goodness  knows  !  " 

"  I  should  say  she  had,"  coincided  Emmeline. 
"  She's  got  on  one  of  them  Victoria  hats,  I  see. 
If  I  had  a  drunken  father,  I'd  keep  in  doors,  I 
think,  and  not  be  parading  myself  in  public." 

Just  then  there  was  a  movement  on  the  lounge, 
and  the  ladies  began  to  take  off  their  things. 

"  Hello,  folks  !  "  said  Mr.  Coonton,  rising  up,  and 
rubbing  his  eyes.     "Is  church  out  ?" 


THEY    ALL    DO     it.  169 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Coonton  with  a  yawn,  which 
communicated  itself  to  her  daughters. 

"  Did  you  have  a  good  sermon  ?  " 

"  Pret-ty  good,"  accompanied  by  another  yawn 
all  round. 

"  See  many  good  clothes  .-' "  was  the  next  query. 

"  I  suppose  you  think,  Mr.  Coonton,  that  that  is 
all  your  wife  and  daughters  go  to  church  for,  —  to 
look  at  people's  clothes,"  said  Mrs.  Coonton  tartly. 

"That's  just  like  pa,"  said  Emmeline,  with  a 
toss  of  her  head :  "  he  is  always  slurring  church 
people." 

Pa  sloped  to  bed. 


THEY     ALL     DO     IT. 

A  WIFE,  when  she  has  received  suitable  notice, 
can  get  up  an  excellent  dinner  for  her  husband's 
friend.  She  does  her  level  best,  working  without 
stint,  until  a  repast  which  pleases  her  in  every  par- 
ticular is  spread.  Then  the  following  conversa- 
tion takes  place  with  the  guest :  — 

"  I  hope  you'll  be  able  to  make  out  a  meal." 

"  I  shall  do  nicely,  I  know,"  he  says. 

"  I'm  really  ashamed  of  the  table,"  she  rattles  on. 

"  Why,  you  needn't  be,"  he  protests. 

"  But  it's  all  his  fault,"  she  explains,  nodding 
toward  her  husband.  "  He  never  gives  mc  any 
warning  scarcely  ;  and  it's  such  warm  weather  now. 


MR.    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 


that  there  is  nothing  you  can  keep  on  hand  for  an 
emergency." 

"  Why,  you've  done  nobly,  I  think  ;  couldn't 
have  done  better,"  asserts  the  guest,  beginning  to 
lose  his  interest  in  the  topic. 

"  Oh  !  I  hope  you  don't  think  tJiis  any  thing  of  a 
dinner,"  she  says,  looking  with  anxious  pride  over 
the  spread.  "  You  must  come  up  again  ;  and  let 
me  know  beforehand,  and  I'll  promise  you  some- 
thing decent  to  eat." 

"  I'm  sure  this  can't  be  beaten,"  protests  the 
guest,  with  a  sense  of  becoming  depressed. 

"  Oh,  bless  me  !  this  is  nothing  but  a  pick-up 
dinner,  —  just  the  same  as  we'd  have  if  alone. 
Do  try  another  biscuit:  I  don't  suppose  they  are 
fit  to  eat,  though,"  she  says,  with  increased  anxiety, 
as  she  observes  their  delicate  color  and  flaky  tex- 
ture. 

"  They  are  beautiful,"  he  hastily  explains,  feeling 
very  uncomfortable  the  while. 

"  You  must  take  the  will  for  the  deed,"  she 
resumes.  "  I  didn't  see  we  were  out  of  bread  till 
the  last  moment,  and  then  I  hastily  made  up  these. 
I  didn't  think  they'd  be  half  way  decent,  as  there 
was  no  time  to  work  them." 

And  so  she  rattles  on  with  her  disastrous  com- 
ments, the  dear  old  fraud !  while  he  continues  to 
protest,  and  continues  to  feel  more  and  more  like 
getting  up  and  flying  madly  away. 


A    MODEL    BOY.  Ill 


A     MODEL     BOY. 

The  man  across  the  way  recently  rented  the 
upper  part  of  his  house  to  a  family  from  an  outside 
district.  The  head  of  the  family  came  to  secure 
the  rent.  He  was  a  tall,  bony  man,  with  a  sun- 
burned face,  and  light,  tawny  chin-whiskers.  He 
looked  very  much  like  a  cross  between  a  farmer 
and  a  planing-mill.     He  explained, — 

"  What  I  want  is  a  peaceful  naberhood  ;  and  the 
comforts  of  a  home  I  get  myself.  There's  the  olfc 
woman,  my  wife,  and  our  boy.  James  is  but  seven 
years  old.  He  ain't  strong,  bein'  given  more  to 
study  than  to  work ;  but  he's  got  a  head  on  him,  I 
can  tell  you.  But  I  want  a  peaceful  naberhood, 
and  you  look  like  the  man  that  kin  just  supply  the 
demand.     We'll  be  around  on  time." 

They  moved  in  two  weeks  ago.  On  the  close  of 
the  third  day,  the  boy  James  had  succeeded  in  flood- 
ing the  first  floor  by  leaving  a  pipe  running  on  the 
second,  and  had  pulled  off  all  the  tomatoes  to 
throw  against  the  barn.  The  man  across  the  way 
mildly  intimated  to  his  new  tenant  what  James  had 
done. 

"  He  didn't  eat  any  of  them  green  termatys,  did 
he  ? "  inquired  the  anxious  parent. 

"I  don't  suppose  he  did,"  was  the  reply  of  the 
landlord,  who  was  evidently  trying  to  see  the  rele- 
vance of  the  query. 


II2  MR.     MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

"  And  he  didn't  get  his  feet  wet,  I  hope  ? "  was 
the  next  question. 

"  I  believe  not,"  was  the  feeble  reply. 

"  Well,"  said  the  grateful  father,  "  let  us  be  thank- 
ful that  it  is  no  worse.  James  must  be  more  keer- 
ful.  A  single  green  termaty,  or  a  pair  of  wet  socks, 
might  waft  his  little  soul  into  eternity  before  you'd 
know.  I'll  reason  with  James  at  once.  I  thank 
you,  sir,  for  your  interest  in  James."  And  he  went 
into  the  house  ;  while  the  man  across  the  way  sat 
hastily  down  on  the  stoop,  and  smote  his  forehead. 

Before  he  had  entirely  recovered  from  this  affair, 
James  again  became  conspicuous.  This  time,  he 
stuck  a  lath  through  the  sash  of  the  front-door. 

The  man  across  the  way  met  the  parent  at  the 
gate  that  evening.     He  mentioned  James's  exploit. 

"  What,  with  his  hand  did  he  do  it .-'  "  gasped  the 
agitated  father.  "  Oh,  no,  no  !  Not  the  little  hand 
which  I  have  held  so  often  in  mine.  Not  the  little 
hand  which  has  pulled  these  whiskers  so  many 
times  in  babyhood.  Oh  !  say  it  was  not  with  his 
hand  he  broke  the  glass." 

The  man  across  the  way  explained  that  it  was 
done  with  a  lath. 

"  Heaven  be  praised  !  "  ejaculated  the  grateful 
father.  "  Poor  James  !  He  ain't  strong  ;  an'  weak 
folks  are  always  unfortunit,  mostly.  But  I'm  glad 
he  didn't  hurt  himself.  He  ain't  a  strong  boy  ;  but 
I'm  in  hopes,  with  quiet  and  pleasant  surroundings, 


A     MODEL     BOY.  I  13 

he'll  improve.  This  is  just  the  naberhood  for  James. 
It's  peaceful,  and  I  like  peace  :  so  does  James  an' 
the  ole  woman."  And  he  passed  in  to  his  tea,  leav~ 
ing  the  man  across  the  way  with  a  stony  stare  in 
his  eyes. 

The  next  day  James  turned  on  the  hose,  and, 
before  he  was  discovered,  had  prostrated  twenty- 
five  plants,  broken  down  a  hanging-basket,  torn  up 
the  flower-bed,  and  nearly  blinded  the  little  girl 
from  the  next  house,  who  was  peering  through  the 
fence  at  the  performance. 

The  man  across  the  way  came  home  to  tea,  and 
saw  the  ruin  which  had  been  effected,  and  he  was 
nearly  beside  himself  with  rage.  There  was  a  look 
of  determination  on  his  face  when  he  encountered, 
an  hour  later,  the  peaceable  tenant  coming  up  the 
yard. 

"  I  tell  you,  sir,"  he  began,  "  this  last  freak  of 
your  boy  is  altogether  too  much  ; "  and  he  pointed 
to  the  devastation. 

"  Why,  how  did  James  do  that  ? "  inquired  the 
father. 

"  He  turned  on  the  hose,"  explained  the  man 
across  the  way  between  his  clinched  teeth. 

The  face  of  the  tenant  blossomed,  into  a  genial 
smile. 

"  Why,  what  an  observing  little  fellow  he  is  ! " 
said  he.  "  I  was  saying  this  noon  to  the  ole  woman, 
that  your  plants  ought  to  be  watered,  or  they'd  all 


114  MR-     MIGGS     OF     DANBURY. 


dry  up  ;  an'  he  must  have  heard  me,  an'  gone  an 

done  it  himself.  That's  just  Hke  James.  He's  so 
thoughtful  for  one  so  young !  " 

The  man  across  the  way  grew  black  enough  in 
the  face  to  strangle. 

"  I  tell  you,  sir,  I  won't  stand  this  again,"  he  de- 
clared in  a  voice  quivering  with  passion.  "  What 
that  boy  wants  is  a  skinning  from  head  to  foot ; 
and,  if  he  had  the  right  kind  of  father,  he'd  get  it 
before  he  was  an  hour  older." 

It  was  painful  to  see  the  expression  of  grief  and 
astonishment  which  settled  like  a  cloud  upon  the 
face  of  the  new  tenant. 

"  What !  "  he  gasped,  "  skin  James,  little  James, 
the  sunshine  of  our  home,  —  a  poor  little  weakling, 
whose  only  fault  is  trying  to  do  too  much  ?  And 
you,  a  man  forty  years  old,  an'  weighing  a  hundred 
an'  sixty  pounds,  I  dare  say,  get  mad  with  a  little 
boy  like  James  .''  Look  here,  you  !  "  he  suddenly 
blurted,  stretching  his  stature  to  the  utmost :  "  I 
come  here  for  peace  ;  and  I'll  have  peace,  you  bet ! 
If  you're  opposed  to  peace,  why  didn't  you  say  so 
when  I  got  the  house  of  you  ?  Wasn't  I  frank 
an'  open  an'  above-board  with  you .'  Didn't  I  tell 
you  on  the  start  that  I  wanted  a  peaceful  naber- 
hood }  Why  didn't  you  deal  as  honest-like  with 
me,  and  own  up  that  you  was  of  a  quarrelsome 
nature  ?  Why  didn't  you  do  that,  I  want  to  know  ? 
I   don't  want  to   have  any   words  with   you,  an'  I 


THE     BUREAU-DRAWER.  II5 

ain't  a-going  to  have.  I  am  a  peaceful  citizen.  I've 
lived  with  twenty-five  different  families,  an'  I  never 
had  any  trouble.  I'm  for  peace  every  time  ;  an* 
I'll  have  peace  where  I  live,  or  I'll  git  at  once  :  you 
can  just  bet  your  money  on  that.  If  you  can't 
keep  your  temper  down,  we'll  git ;  for  I  won't  have 
James  worried  for  all  the  houses  between  here  and 
the  perfumed  plains  of  Araby.  Gosh  all  hemlock ! 
what's  life  without  peace  ?  " 

Yesterday  we  observed  the  second-floor  furniture 
loading  on  a  wagon  ;  by  which  we  conclude  the  man 
across  the  way  is  not  able  to  keep  his  temper  down. 


THE    BUREAU-DRAWER. 

The  man  who  will  invent  a  bureau-drawer  which 
will  move  out  and  in  without  a  hitch  will  not  only 
secure  a  fortune,  but  will  attain  to  an  eminence  in 
history  not  second  to  the  greatest  warriors.  There 
is  nothing,  perhaps  (always  excepting  a  stove-pipe), 
that  will  so  exasperate  a  man  as  a  bureau-drawer 
which  will  not  shut.  It  is  a  deceptive  article.  It 
will  start  off  all  right  ;  then  it  pauses  at  one  end 
while  the  other  swings  in  as  far  as  it  can.  It  is 
the  custom  to  throw  the  whole  weight  of  the  per- 
son against  the  end  which  sticks.  If  any  one  has 
succeeded  in  closing  a  drawer  by  so  doing,  he  will 
confer  a  favor  by  sending  his  address  to  this  office. 


Il6  MR.     MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

We  have  seen  men  do  this  several  times,  and  then 
run  from  the  other  side  of  the  room,  and  jump  with 
both  feet  against  the  obstinate  end.  This  doesn't 
appear  to  answer  the  purpose  any  better ;  but  it 
is  very  satisfying.  Mrs.  Holcomb  was  trying  to 
shut  a  bureau-drawer  Saturday  morning  ;  but  it  was 
an  abortive  effort.  Finally  she  burst  into  tears. 
Then  Mr.  Holcomb  told  her  to  stand  aside,  and  see 
him  do  it. 

"  You  see,"  observed  Mr.  Holcomb  with  quiet 
dignity,  "  that  the  drawer  is  all  awry.  That's  what 
makes  it  stick.  Now,  anybody  but  a  woman  would 
see  at  once,  that  to  move  a  drawer  standing  in  that 
position  would  be  impossible.  I  now  bring  out 
this  other  end  even  with  the  other,  —  so;  then  I 
take  hold  of  both  knobs,  and,  with  an  equal  press- 
ure from  each  hand,  the  drawer  moves  easily  in. 
See }  " 

The  dreadful  thing  moved  readily  forward  for  a 
distance  of  nearly  two  inches  ;  then  it  stopped 
abruptly. 

"  Ah  !  "  observed  Mrs.  Holcomb,  beginning  to  look 
happy  again. 

Mr.  Holcomb  very  properly  made  no  response  to 
this  ungenerous  expression  ;  but  he  gently  worked 
each  end  of  the  drawer  to  and  fro,  but  without 
success.  Then  he  pulled  the  drawer  all  the  way 
out,  adjusted  it  properly,  and  started  it  carefully 
back :  it  moved  as  if  it  was  on  oiled  wheels.     Mr. 


TiiK  Blkkau  DnAWER.  —  PaL'e  117. 


i 


i 


THE    BUREAU-DRAWER.  II7 

Holcomb  smiled.  Then  it  stopped.  Mr.  Holcomb 
looked  solemn. 

"  Perhaps  you  ain't  got  the  ends  adjusted,"  sug- 
gested the  unhappy  Mrs.  Holcomb. 

Mr.  Holcomb  made  no  reply.  Were  it  not  for 
an  increased  flush  in  his  face,  it  might  have  been 
doubted  if  he  heard  the  remark  at  all.  He  pushed 
harder  at  the  drawer  than  was  apparent  to  her  ; 
but  it  didn't  move.  He  tried  to  bring  it  back 
again ;    but  it  would  not  come. 

"  Are  you  sure  you  have  got  every  thing  out  of 
here  you  want  .'*  "  he  finally  asked,  with  a  desperate 
effort  to  appear  composed. 

"Oh!  tJiafs  what  you  are  stopping  for,  is  it.-* 
But  you  needn't  :  I  have  got  what  I  wanted  :  you 
can  shut  it  right  up."  Then  she  smiled  a  very 
wicked  smile. 

He  grew  redder  in  the  face,  and  set  his  teeth 
firmly  together,  and  put  all  his  strength  to  the 
obdurate  drawer,  while  a  hard  look  gleamed  in  his 
eye. 

But  it  did  not  move.     He  pushed  harder. 

"  Ooh,  ooh  ! "  he  groaned. 

"  I'm  afraid  you  haven't  got  the  ends  adjusted," 
she  maliciously  suggested. 

A  scowl  settled  on  his  face,  while  he  strained 
every  muscle  in  the  pressure. 

"  What  dumb  fool  put  this  drawer  together,  I'd 
like  to  know  .''  "   he   snapped  out.     She  made    no 


1  l8  MR.     MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 

reply ;  but  she  felt  that  she  had  not  known  such 
happiness  since  the  day  she  stood  before  the  altar 
with  him,  and  orange-blossoms  in  her  hair. 

"  I'd  like  to  know  what  in  thunder  you've  been 
doing  to  this  drawer,  Jane  Holcomb  ? "  he  jerked 
out. 

"  I  ain't  done  any  thing  to  it,"  she  replied. 

"  I  know  better,"  he  asserted. 

"Well,  know  what  you  please,  for  all  I  care," 
she  sympathizingly  retorted. 

The  cords  swelled  up  on  his  neck,  and  the 
corners  of  his  mouth  grew  white. 

"  I'll   shut  that  drawer,  or   I'll  know  the  reason 
of  it!"  he  shouted  ;  and  he  jumped  up,  and  gave  it 
a  passionate  kick. 
=  "  Oh  my  !  "  she  exclaimed. 

He  dropped  on  his  knees  again,  and  grabbed 
hold  of  the  knobs,  and  swayed  and  pushed  at  them 
with  all  his  might.     But  it  didn't  move. 

"  Why  in  Heaven's  name  don't  you  open  the 
window  .''  Do  you  want  to  smother  me  ?  "  he  pas- 
sionately cried. 

It  was  warm,  dreadfully  warm.  The  perspira- 
tion stood  in  great  drops  on  his  face,  or  ran  down 
into  his  neck.  The  birds  sang  merrily  out  the 
door,  and  the  glad  sunshine  lay  in  golden  sheets 
upon  the  earth  ;  but  he  did  not  notice  them.  He 
would  have  given  five  dollars  if  he  had  not  touched 
the  accursed  bureau  ;  he  would   have  ffiven   ten   if 


A     WOMAN  S     IDEA     OF     FINANCE.  II9 

he  had  never  been  born.  He  threw  all  his  weight 
on  both  knobs.  It  moved  then.  It  went  to  its 
place  with  a  suddenness  that  threw  him  from  his 
balance,  and  brought  his  burning  face  against  the 
bureau  with  force  enough  to  skin  his  nose,  and  fill 
his  eyes  with  water  to  a  degree  that  was  blinding. 

Then  he  went  out  on   the    back-stoop   and    sat 
there  for  an  hour,  scowling  at  the  scenery. 


A    WOMAN'S     IDEA     OF     FINANCE. 

A  Danburv  man  was  looking  at  his  yard  Thurs- 
day afternoon.  He  was  looking  at  it  in  such  a 
way  as  to  easily  attract  the  attention  of  any 
neighbor  who  might  have  a  lot  of  unemployed 
time  on  hand.  Such  a  party  pretty  soon  joined 
the  observer,  and  immediately  took  an  all-absorb- 
ing interest  in  the  contemplated  improvement. 
From  this  subject  they  rapidly  drifted  into  finance. 

"  Pretty  tough  times,"  observed  the  neighbor. 

"Yes,  they  are  that  ;  an'  it'll  be  tougher  before 
we're  over  it,  I  imagine,"  was  the  answer. 

They  were  both  sitting  on  a  saw-horse  under 
an  apple-tree,  near  the  back-door,  when  this  conver- 
sation commenced.  The  owner  of  the  premises 
was  chewing  on  a  bit  of  straw  ;  and  the  neighbor 
was  mechanically  pulling  tops  from  the  plantain  in 
reach. 


I20  MR.     MIGGS     OF     DANBURY. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  this  money-question 
which  has  got  into  politics  this  year  ? "  inquired 
the  neighbor. 

"  I  think  it'll  be  settled  one  way  or  the  other 
before  another  presidential  election  is  over,"  replied 
the  owner.     "  You  see  the  matter  is  being  "  — 

"  Ezekiel ! "  pronounced  a  sharp  voice  from  the 
stoop. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  .'*  "  he  curtly  inquired. 

"  I  wish  you'd  get  me  a  pail  of  water." 

"  In  a  minute.  —  As  I  was  sayin,'  the  matter  is 
bein'  pressed  with  unusual  force.  There  has  been 
this  effort  for  years  to  come  down  to  a  specie 
basis  ;  but  nothin'  definite  has  been  reached.  Now, 
I  imagine  this  campaign  will  settle  it." 

"  You  believe  specie  to  be  the  best  currency,  of 
course  .-• " 

"  Certainly.  What  does  the  increase  of  paper 
money  amount "  — 

"  Ezeziel !  "  came  the  voice  from  the  stoop. 

"  In  a  minute.  —  All  the  paper  you  might  print 
from  now  till"  — 

"  Ezekiel !  " 

"  Thunder  and  lightning !  Maria,  what  is  the 
matter  .'  "  he  passionately  ejaculated. 

"  I  want  you  to  get  me  a  pail  of  water  :  I'm 
waitin'  for  it." 

"I'll  get  it  in  a  minute,  if  you'll  just  hold  your 
breath.  —  You   might,  as   I  said,  print  money  till 


A     WOMAN  S     IDEA     OF     FINANCE.  121 

doomsday;  an',  if  you  ain't  got  the  gold  to  back  it 
up,  what  is  it  going  to  amount  to  ?  As  far  as  ex- 
change is  concerned,  among  ourselves  I  will  admit 
that  paper"  — 

"  Ezekiel  !  " 

"  Good  gracious  !     Maria,  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  I  want  a  pail  of  water.  I've  told  you  a  dozen 
times.  If  you  don't  hurry  up  with  it,  you'll  have 
to  go  without  dinner." 

"  Where  is  the  pail  ?  "  snapped  the  annoyed  hus- 
band, seeing  it  in  her  hand.  "  It's  a  pity  if  I  can't 
get  a  chance  to  say  a  word,  without  being  put  out 
every  minute." 

Seeing  him  rise  up,  she  set  the  pail  down  on  the 
stoop,  and  retired  ;  and  he,  helping  himself  to  a 
fresh  straw,  said,  — 

"  As  I  was  sayin',  paper  is  all  well  enough  among 
ourselves  as  a  matter  of  exchange ;  but  what  are  we 
goin'  to  do  for  imports .-'  We  can't  get  along  with- 
out gold  then.  An'  what  are  we  goin'  to  do  when 
this  money  is  called  in,  if  we  haven't  got  gold 
enough  to  redeem  it }  Now,  suppose,  for  instance, 
that  I  had  ten"  — 

"Ezekiel!"  came  the  voice  again.  But  he  did 
not  hear  it. 

— "  thousand  dollars  in  cash,  an'  supposin'  I 
wanted  to  use  forty  thousand  dollars.  What  do  I 
do  }     I  take  "  — 

"  Ezekiel !  Why  on  earth  don't  you  stop  that 
gab  of  yours,  and  get  me  a  pail  of  water  1 " 


MR,    MIGGS    OF    DANBURY. 


"  Yes,  yes,  in  a  minute.  —  An'  I  take  my  paper 
on  the  market  for  tliat  amount.  Here  is  ten  thou- 
sand dollars  in  cash,  you  see,  an'  here  is  the  — 
Woosh !  gar!  ooh!"  and  just  here  the  gasping 
husband  was  awed  into  silence  by  seeing  his  neigh- 
bor dash  over  the  fence  in  a  dripping  condition. 
The  forty  thousand  dollars  on  paper  was  not  there, 
as  might  have  reasonably  been  expected  ;  but  a  pail 
of  indifferent  water  was  there,  hurled  with  all  the 
force  and  fury  an  exasperated  woman  is  capable  of. 
And,  as  the  choking  expounder  of  specie  as  a  basis 
reached  out  spasmodically  for  his  breath,  the  inter- 
ested neighbor,  with  fully  two-thirds  of  the  con- 
tents of  the  bucket  in  his  hair  and  under  his  coat- 
collar,  sped  across  the  lots  with  a  vehemence  that 
was  really  marvellous  as  an  exhibition  of  speed,  and 
with  a  silence  in  regard  to  the  cause  which  was 
born  of  twenty  years  of  married  life. 


SPRING    IN    DANBURYe 


1 


SPRING   IN    DANBURY. 


MR.    COBLEIGH'S    SORROW. 

Mr.  Cobleigh  moved  on  the  ist  of  May.  We 
were  going  through  North  Street  when  we  met  him 
with  the  insignia  of  the  act  upon  him  ;  viz.,  a  look- 
ing-glass, clock,  and  lamp.  If  we  had  suddenly 
discovered  our  own  family  moving,  we  could  not 
have  been  more  astonished.  He  had  lived  in  the 
house  whence  he  was  moving  for  at  least  eight 
years.  He  set  the  lamp  on  a  fence,  and  propped 
the  clock  and  looking-glass  against  the  same. 

"  You  are  surprised  to  see  me  at  this  ?  "  he  said 
with  an  anxious  look. 

We  admitted  as  much.    . 

"  I  little  expected  it  at  one  time  myself."  And 
he  sighed  drearily. 

"  Any  trouble  with  the  landlord  .-'  " 

"  No,  no." 

"  With  the  house,  then  }  " 

"  Oh,  no !    good   landlord,    and   good    house.     I 

don't  know  if  I'll  ever  again  find   as   good.     I've 

125 


126  SPRING    IN     DANBURY. 

lived  there  eight  years  last  fall ;  and  I  might' ve  lived 
there  all  my  life,  if  it  wasn't  for  the  danged  fools 
in  the  world." 

We  looked  our  sympathy. 

"  You  see,"  he  went  on,  "  about  six  months  ago, 
one  of  those  chaps  who  believe  in  a  series  of  sud- 
den and  unexpected  judgment-days  —  Second  Ad- 
vent, they  call  'em  —  moved  in  next  door  (where 
Parker  used  to  live).  He  was  a  peaceful  sort  of  a 
man  enough  to  get  along  with  ;  but  he  was  a  strong 
Second  Advent,  and  so  is  his  wife.  Well,  they 
hadn't  lived  there  two  weeks  before  they  got  ac- 
quainted, and  began  to  have  revelations."  He  m 
paused  and  sighed. 

"  But  why  should  their  peculiar  religious  belief 
make  you  dissatisfied  with  your  home .'' "  we  ven- 
tured to  inquire. 

"  Why  ?  "  he  ejaculated,  staring  hard  at  us.  "  But 
then  you  don't  know  any  thing  about  it.  You 
never  lived  next  door  to  a  Second  Advent,  per- 
haps .'' " 

"  Not  that  we  can  remember." 

"  You'd  remembered  it  if  you  had,"  he  replied 
with  significant  emphasis.  "  I'll  never  forget  my 
experience.  That  family  got  acquainted  with  us  ; 
and  then  it  had  its  revelations.  First  they  bor- 
rowed a  little  sugar,  and  then  a  little  tea,  and  then 
a  little  saleratus,  and  then  this,  and  then  that.  They 
said  the  world  was  all  going  to  be  burned  up  in 


MR.    COBLEIGHS    SORROW.  127 

two  weeks,  and  they  didn't  feel  like  going  to  the 
expense  of  getting  a  barrel  of  sugar,  when  eternity 
was  so  close  ;  and  wouldn't  we  let  them  have  a  small 
teacupful  ?  We  let  'em  have  it.  Then,  two  days 
after,  they  came  in,  and  said,  that,  owing  to  the  im- 
mediate approach  of  the  end  of  all  things,  they 
didn't  think  it  advisable  to  lay  in  a  ton  of  saleratus, 
and  wouldn't  we  just  loan  them  a  cupful .''  My  wife 
didn't  believe,  of  course,  that  the  world  was  a-com- 
ing  to  an  end ;  but  she  thought  the  poor  critters 
did  :  and  she  reasoned,  that,  when  they  saw  there 
was  no  fire  nor  smoke  on  the  day  in  question,  they'd 
pony  up  with  the  sugar  and  saleratus,  and  the  hun- 
dred and  one  other  things.  But  they  wasn't  that 
kind  of  Advents.  When  the  time  came  around,  and 
the  performance  didn't,  they  professed  to  have  got 
a  sort  of  postscript  with  later  particulars  ;  and  then 
they  came  over  as  rampant  as  ever,  and  more  so. 
In  fact,  every  fresh  disappointment  appeared  to 
give  them  new  zeal  for  victuals  and  other  things ; 
and  it  got  so  that  they  were  over  every  day,  and 
sometimes  twice  a  day,  after  one  thing  or  another." 
"  But  didn't  they  return  any  of  the  articles  ? " 
"Certainly  not.  If  the  world  was  going  to  end, 
what  on  earth  was  we  a-going  to  do  with  the  arti- 
cles .-•  I  couldn't  go  through  fire,  could  I,  with  tca- 
cupfuls  of  saleratus,  sugar,  tea,  &c.,  hung  to  me.^ 
That's  the  way  they  reasoned.  But  they  was  going 
to  make  it  all  right  on  the  other  shore,  was  what 


128 


SPRING     IN     DANBURY. 


his  wife  always  said.  I  told  my  wife,  that,  if  we 
could  only  get  back  ten  per  cent  of  the  things  on 
this  shore,  I'd  cheerfully  run  my  chances  for  the 
balance  when  we  got  over  there.  Besides  all  that, 
the  prospect  of  so  much  groceries  waiting  me  on 
the  other  shore  began,  after  a  while,  to  get  very  em.- 
barrassing ;  and  I  kinder  hinted  to  the  chap  some- 
thing to  this  effect ;  but  it  did  no  good.  He'd  got 
that  notion  bored  right  into  his  skull  ;  and  all  he 
could  see  was  clouds  of  glory,  and  angels,  and 
harps,  and  my  sugar  and  saleratus  and  coffee  and 
the  like.  By  George  !  it  got  to  be  just  awful,  I  can 
tell  you  !  Day  in  and  day  out,  that  fellow,  or  some 
of  his  folks,  was  repairing  their  ascension  duds,  or 
going  for  my  groceries  ;  and  it  did  seem  as  if  I'd 
go  mad,  and  get  up  a  judgment-day  on  my  own 
hook.  Why,  that  chap  would  come  on  the  greatest 
errands  you  ever  saw.  He  come  in  one  day  to  get  my 
shaving-brush.  He  said  he  didn't  feel  justified  in 
buying  a  new  brush  right  on  the  eve  of  a  general 
resurrection  ;  but  he  would  use  mine,  and,  when  we 
all  got  over  there"  (here  Mr.  Cobleigh  waved  his 
hand  in  gloomy  indication  of  the  locality),  "he'd 
give  me  a  shaving-brush  inlaid  with  precious  stones, 
and  frisking  in  golden  foam.  Bah  !  —  the  jackass  ! 
But  that's  the  way  he'd  talk.  He  got  my  axe  one 
day  with  a  lot  of  the  same  foolishness ;  and,  while 
he  was  using  it,  the  handle  broke,  and  the  blade  went 
down  the  well.     He  come  over  right  away  to  see  if 


MR.     COBLEIGH  S    SORROW.  129 

I  had  another  axe ;  and  when  I  told  him  I  hadn't, 
and  that  I  didn't  know  how  I  was  to  get  along  with- 
out that  one,  I'm  blamed  if  he  didn't  want  me  to 
borrow  one  from  some  of  the  neighbors,  so  he  could 
finish  the  little  job  he  was  at!  He  said  there  was 
no  use  of  my  buying  a  new  axe,  with  the  crack  of 
doom  staring  us  in  the  face.  There'd  be  no  use 
for  a  new  axe  in  heaven,  for  there'd  be  no  pain 
there,  an'  no  crying  ;  with  a  lot  of  other  stuff.  This 
riled  me  like  thunder.  But  there  was  no  use  talk- 
ing to  Jiini.  I  was  mad,  though,  about  the  axe,  — as 
mad  as  I  could  be  ;  and  I  told  him,  if  he  didn't  get 
me  a  new  axe,  I'd  bust  him  in  pieces  with  the  right 
arm  of  the  law.  And  what  do  you  suppose  he 
said  .''  "  And  Mr.  Cobleigh  looked  at  us  with  grim 
anxiety. 

We  were  obliged  to  admit  that  we  couldn't 
teU. 

"  He  said  he'd  go  home  and  pray  for  me,"  added 
our  friend  with  a  sigh  of  despair.  "  And  now, 
what  could  I  do  with  such  a  chap  as  that .'  There 
was  no  use  in  getting  mad,  and  you  couldn't  reason 
him  out  of  the  foolishness.  And  he  wouldn't  move  ; 
and  the  day  of  judgment  showed  no  signs  of  being 
in  earnest.  So  there  I  was.  The  only  thing  I 
could  do  was  to  get  away  ;  and  I've  hired  a  house 
at  the  other  end  of  the  town,  and  I'm  moving 
there.  And  now,"  added  our  unfortunate  friend, 
steadying    the    looking-glass    and  clock  under  his 


130  SPRING     IN     DANBURY. 

arms,  while  he  grasped  the  lamp,  "  I've  got  where 
there  is  a  jail  on  one  side  of  me,  and  a  graveyard 
on  the  other  ;  and  I  don't  care  a  darn   how  many 
Second  Advents  move  in  on  either  side." 
And  he  stalked  grimly  on  his  way. 


THE  BENEVOLENT  STRANGER. 

She  had  a  hen  that  was  bound  to  set,  and  which 
she  was  bound  should  not  set.  Where  there  is 
such  a  diversion  of  sentiment  between  a  family 
and  its  hens,  there  can  be  no  peace  nor  harmony. 
The  feelings  of  both  are  arrayed  against  the  other ; 
and  conflict  and  jars,  and  unhappiness  generally, 
are  the  sure  results.  There  may  come  a  time 
when  both  parties  will  clearly  comprehend  each 
other,  and  when  the  hen's  feelings  will  not  only  be 
understood,  but  respected.  We  should  like  very 
much  to  live  until  the  glad  dawn  of  that  era  ;  but 
our  friends  mustn't  be  too  confident  that  we  will. 
A  family  on  Nelson  Street,  just  above  Division, 
have  a  hen  that  wishes  to  set.  She  was  surprised 
on  the  nest  Friday  afternoon  for  the  severalth 
time.  The  woman  of  the  house  thus  found  her, 
and,  snatching  her  up,  took  a  string,  tied  it  about 
the  fowl's  leg,  and  hitched  her  up  to  the  fence. 
She  had  just  completed  this  act,  when  she  was 
accosted  by  an  elderly  gentleman,  a  stranger,  who, 


THE    BENEVOLENT    STRANGER.  13I 

in  passing,  stopped  to  observe  the  performance. 
He  was  a  man  of  a  grave  but  benevolent  expres- 
sion of  face,  and  one  whose  dress  indicated  that 
he  was  in  good  circumstances,  and  thus  must 
command  respect. 

"  What  is  the  trouble  with  the  hen,  madam  ? " 
he  asked. 

"  I'm  trying  to  break  her  up  from  setting,"  re- 
plied the  woman. 

"  And  don't  you  succeed  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  so  far,  although  I've  tried  every 
thing  about.  We've  poured  water  on  her,  and 
kept  her  under  a  barrel,  and  beat  her,  and  tied  a 
red  rag  around  her  leg,  and  tied  her  up  in  the  hot 
sun  all  day,  and  done  about  every  thing.  But  I 
think  I'll  conquer  her  now.  I've  got  her  tied  up 
by  the  leg,  so  she  can't  touch  the  ground  ;  and  I 
guess  she'll  get  sick  of  setting  when  she's  let 
down  again," 

The  stranger  looked  at  the  hen,  which  was  evi- 
dently suffering  from  the  position  it  was  in,  and 
with  a  sigh  asked,  — 

"  Won't  you  take  her  down  now  ?      She  suffers." 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  said  the  woman  with  tighten- 
ing teeth.     She  must  learn  better." 

"  Have  you  any  children  ? "   he  inquired. 

"Yes;  five." 

"  Why  did  you  have  them  .-'  " 

"Why — did  —  I  —  have  —  them.?"  she  repeated, 
staring  at  him,     "  Why,  because  I  wanted  them." 


£32  SPRING     IN     DANBURY. 

"  Exactly.  It  was  in  obedience  to  a  maternal 
instinct.  Now,  suppose,  when  you  felt  this  want 
for  children,  you  had  been  shoved  under  a  barrel : 
would  that  have  been  right  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  she  softly. 

"  Or  had  cold  water  poured  on  your  head  ?  " 

She  said  nothing. 

"  Suppose,  again,  you  had  a  red  flannel  tied 
around  you :    how  would  that   have  done .'' " 

Still   she  was   silent. 

"  We'll  make  another  supposition,"  he  contin- 
ued. "  Suppose  that  when  this  hungering  for  a 
little  one  to  come  to  you,  one  that  you  might 
take  and  lead  and  teach,  just  as  your  neighbors 
about  you  lead  and  teach  their  precious  ones,  you 
had  been  beaten,  tied  up  by  the  feet,  and  left  in 
the  hot  sun  all  day:  would  that  have  been 
right .''  " 

She  dropped  her  head,  and  said  nothing. 

"  Or  would  you  prefer  being  tied  up  by  one 
foot  to  a  fence .''  " 

"No,  no!" 

"  Will  you  take  the  hen  down  } " 

In  something  less  than  four  seconds  that  hen 
was  down  from  her  uncomfortable  position,  and 
moving  about  with  a  most  grateful  step. 

"  I'll  never  tie  up  another  hen  as  long  as  I 
live ! "  cried  the   excited  woman. 

"  Good   for    you ! "     said     the    old    gentleman. 


•    MR.     COVILLES    EXPERIMENT.  I33 

"  Hens  must  not  always  set  when  they  want  to  ; 
but  shutting  them  up  in  a  coop  where  they 
can  have  plenty  of  room,  but  no  nests  to  set 
in,  will  break  them  up  just  as  effectually  as 
violent  measures ;  and,  better  yet,  you  retain 
their   confidence   and    affection." 

The    repentant  woman    invited    him    to    take   a 
glass  of  milk ;   and  he  went  in  and  took  it. 


MR.    COVILLE'S    EXPERIMENT. 

Mr.  Coville  has  got  but  one  apple-tree  ;  but  it 
is  a  good  tree.  It  has  hung  full  of  blossoms,  and 
in  the  past  week  has  been  a  very  beautiful  orna- 
ment in  his  little  yard.  We  do  think  apple-blos- 
soms the  sweetest  flowers  ever  created.  On  Mr. 
Coville's  tree  worms  have  made  a  huge  and  un- 
sightly nest.  It  was  not  only  an  objectionable 
shadow  upon  the  glory  of  the  foliage,  but  it  threat- 
ened to  cover  the  tree  with  an  enemy  which  would 
destroy  the  fruit,  and  make  its  place  loathsome 
with  their  bodies.  Mr.  Coville  learned  that  the 
only  sure  way  of  getting  rid  of  the  nest  was  to 
burn  it  away.  This  was  to  be  done  by  a  lighted 
bunch  of  rags  saturated  with  camphene,  and  tied 
to  the  end  of  a  pole  so  as  to  be  applied  to  the  nest. 
It  was  on  Friday  evening  that  Mr.  Coville  did  this 
business.     His  wife  helped  him.     He  put  a  barrel 


134  SPRING     IN     DANBURY. 

under  the  tree  to  stand  on,  as  he  did  not  have  a 
pole  long  enough  to  reach  the  nest  from  the  ground. 
He  tied  a  lot  of  rags  on  the  end  of  a  stick,  and 
dipped  the  mass  into  a  basin  of  camphene,  and 
then  touched  off  a  match,  and  applied  the  ball  of 
flame  to  the  nest.  High  as  he  was  from  the 
ground,  still  he  had  to  stand  well  up  on  his  toes  to 
make  the  remedy  effective.  But  Mr.  Coville  did 
not  mind  that  at  all,  because  the  flame  was  doing 
the  work  most  beautifully. 

"  That'll  sizzle  'em,  by  gracious  ! "  he  shouted 
down  to  his  wife,  who  stood  by  him,  while  his  eyes 
were  riveted  on  the  devastation  above  his  head. 

"  Wah,  ooh,  ooJl  !  "  suddenly  rent  the  air  above 
the  apple-tree  ;  and,  before  the  startled  woman  could 
comprehend  from  whence  came  the  dreadful  cry, 
she  received  a  blow  on  the .  head  from  a  ball  of 
burning  rags,  and  went  down  like  a  flash,  striking 
the  ground  in  time  to  see  her  husband  descend, 
seat  first,  on  a  similar  ball  of  flame,  and  rise  again 
as  if  called  up  by  an  unseen  but  irresistible  power. 

It  was  all  explained  in  a  minute,  while  Mr. 
Coville  sat  in  a  large  dish  of  cold  water.  It 
appears  that  a  drop  of  the  lighted  camphene  fell 
from  the  ball,  and  struck  Mr.  Coville  on  the  chin 
just  as  he  was  in  the  very  climax  of  enthusiasm, 
when  every  nerve  seemed  stretched  to  its  utmost 
tension  in  fond  anticipation  of  the  most  gratifying 
results.     The  shock  was  too  great  for  his  nervous 


HIS    WIPES    MOTHER.  I35 

system  to  withstand.  The  barrel  went  over  in 
that  awfully  unexpected  way  which  a  barrel  has  of 
going  over ;  and,  in  the  descent  of  his  person,  Mr. 
Coville  fetched  his  wife  a  wipe  over  the  head  with 
his  fireworks,  as  forcible  as  it  was  unintended  ;  and 
wound  up  the  performance  by  sitting  abruptly  and 
inexplicably  down  upon  the  illumination  itself. 
Mrs.  Coville  lost  some  hair,  and  was  scorched  on 
one  ear,  and  Mr.  Coville  has  had  to  have  an  entirely 
new  sag  put  in  his  pants  ;  but  the  barrel  was  not 
injured  in  the  least,  and  the  torch  is  about  as  good 
as  new,  if  any  one  cares  to  use  it. 


HIS    WIFE'S    MOTHER. 

They  had  been  having  pancakes  since  the  ist 
of  February.  He  was  an  economical  man,  and 
thought  fifty-cent  molasses  was  good  enough.  She 
was  a  trifle  more  refined  in  her  taste,  and  yearned 
for  sirups ;  but,  being  a  patient  and  meek  woman, 
she  gave  up  the  struggle  for  the  desire  of  her  heart, 
and  quietly  submitted  to  his  decision.  Last  Fri- 
day her  mother  made  them  her  first  visit.  She  is 
a  woman  large  of  bone,  quick  of  thought,  and 
amply  adapted  to  tussle  with  the  problems  of  life. 
She  didn't  take  to  the  cheap  adornment  of  the  pan- 
cakes, and  asked  her  daughter  why  she  didn't  have 
sirup. 


136  SPRING     IN     DANBURY. 

"  These  cakes  are  too  good  to  be  smeared  with 
such  stuff,"  she  asserted  in  a  tone  of  disgust. 

The  wife  made  a  feeble  reply,  while  the  husband 
smiled  grimly  to  himself. 

"Can't  you  get  sirup  in  Danbury  .-* "  she  asked 
him. 

"  I  s'pose  so." 

"  Then  I  shall  expect  some  for  my  breakfast 
to-morrow  morning,"  she  said,  looking  straight  at 
him. 

Next  morning  the  pitcher  of  molasses  was  on 
the  table.  She  picked  it  up,  and  smelled  of  the 
contents. 

"  Faugh  ! "  she  exclaimed,  lifting  her  nose : 
"  Where's  that  sirup  .-' " 

"  I  didn't  get  it,"  said  he,  without  looking  up. 

"  Did  you  forget  it  ? "  she  asked,  opening  her 
lips  as  little  as  possible  to  say  the  words. 

"  No." 

"  Why  didn't  you  get  it,  then  ?  " 

"  Because  it  costs  more  than  I  want  to  pay." 

"  Oh !  " 

There  was  a  moment's  pause  after  this  ejacula- 
tion, during  which  he  raised  his  eyes  to  leer  at  her, 
but  dropped  them  again,  and  moved  uneasily  in 
his  chair. 

"  You  never  seem  to  think  of  the  cost  when  you 
want  a  cigar  or  a  drink  of  liquor,  or  to  go  off  alone 
to  a  place  of  amusement,"  she  said,  looking  straight 


HIS    WIFES    MOTHER.  I37 


at  his  depressed  face  ;  "  but,  when  any  thing  better 
than  tar  is  wanted  at  home  for  pancakes,,  the  cost 
is  a  matter  of  some  importance.  If  you  had  a 
stomach  that  was  half  human,  you  couldn't  eat  it." 

"  It's  good  enough  for  me ;  an'  what's  good 
enough  for  me  must  be  good  enough  for  others," 
he  doggedly  growled. 

There  was  a  jump,  the  sound  of  an  overturning 
chair  and  crockery ;  and  she  was  standing  up,  with 
one  hand  convulsively  grasped  in  his  hair,  and  the 
other  clutching  the  pitcher  of  offence.  His  face 
was  pressed  against  the  table. 

"  Lemme  up  !  "  he  yelled. 

"  It's  good  enough  for  you,  is  it .-' "  she  cried. 
"  Well,  you  shall  have  the  whole  of  it." 

And  she  turned  the  contents  over  his  head,  and 
worked  it  in  his  hair,  and  down  his  neck,  and  in  his 
ears,  while  he  spluttered  and  screamed  and  whined, 
and  struggled  with  all  his  might  to  release  himself ; 
but  he  was  like  a  baby  in  the  hands  of  a  giant. 

When  she  got  through,  she  coolly  proceeded  to 
the  sink,  and  deliberately  washed  her  hands,  while 
he  sat  there,  quivering  all  over,  and  staring  at  her 
with  an  expression  in  his  eyes  that  tallied  admirably 
with  the  erect  condition  of  his  hair. 

He  was  two  full  hours  getting  that  stuff  out  of 
his  hair ;  but  it  was  not  wasted  time.  A  gallon  of 
the  best  sirup  was  sent  up  to  the  house  within  an 
hour  after  he  went  down  ;  and  when  she  returned 


I3S  SPRING     IN     DANBURY. 

home,  four  clays  later,  he  hired  a  carriage  expressly 
to  take  her  to  the  cars.  When  she  came,  she  had 
to  walk  from  the  depot. 


THE    UNOSTENTATIOUS    CUCUMBER. 

The  first  basket  of  cucumbers  appeared  in  our 
market  last  week.  Cucumbers  are  man's  earliest 
friends.  In  appearance  they  are  the  most  unpre- 
tentious among  vegetables ;  but  in  character  they 
take  the  precedence.  When  a  cucumber  first 
comes  around,  there  is  a  general  feeling  of  uneasi- 
ness, arising  from  a  doubt,  whose  subtle  influence  is 
felt  throughout  the  community.  But  this  uneasiness 
wears  off  after  a  while,  and  suspicion  gives  way  to 
genuine  regard.  In  fact,  there  is  not  a  vegetable 
which  comes  to  the  market  that  will  command  the 
respect  a  cucumber  receives.  When  we  see  a 
cucumber,  we  are  led  to  look  back  over  its  career. 
It  has  been  a  stormy  one,  even  under  the  most 
favorable  circumstances  possible  to  cucumber  de- 
velopment. Only  about  one  in  ten  starting  even 
in  life  ever  reaches  a  position  in  society.  There  is 
some  recompense,  of  course,  in  the  excitement 
which  arises  from  the  dangers  ;  and  we  can  well 
believe  that  it  must  be  eminently  gratifying  to  a 
successful  cucumber,  when  it  has  gained  the  victory, 
to  find,  that,  instead  of  sinking  into  helpless  old  age, 


SHE    OBJECTED    TO    M.UD.  139 

it  has  been  taken  into  the  bosom  of  an  enthusiastic 
family,  and  in  a  very  few  hours  will  be  exploring 
them.  Nothing  excites  a  cucumber.  This  has 
been  its  record  since  time  began  ;  and  its  self-pos- 
session, even  in  the  presence  of  the.  most  famous 
physicians  and  most  successful  coroners,  has  given 
rise  to  a  popular  proverb.  What  a  cucumber  has 
got  to  do,  it  does  with  all  its  might.  It  enters  upon 
the  work  with  intense  enthusiasm ;  but  it  patiently 
waits  the  time  of  action.  The  great  depth  of  its 
nature  is  hidden  from  the  world  until  about  three 

A.M. 


SHE     OBJECTED     TO     MUD. 

This  is  a  very  trying  season  to  smitten  young 
men.  The  mud  is  very  deep  and  very  sticky  ;  and 
a  young  man  is  apt  to  be  careless  and  indifferent 
about  his  stepping  when  escorting  a  particularly 
attractive  young  lady  home.  A  rather  embarrass- 
ing predicament  a  Danbury  young  man  was  placed 
in  Sunday  night.  A  young  lady  whose  acquaint- 
ance he  made  a  short  time  ago,  and  who  struck  him 
as  being  a  trifle  above  any  other  being  on  earth, 
was  leaving  church  without  an  escort  Sunday  night. 
He  hastened  to  her  side  with  his  services.  She 
accepted,  and  with  a  heartiness  that  made  the  uni- 
verse act  as  if  it  was  about  to  slip  from  under  him. 
She  took  his  arm  ;  and  he  moved  along  with  her  as 


140  SPRING     IN     DANBURY. 

carefully  as  if  she  was  a  steamboat  covered  with 
diamonds.  He  never  thought  of  the  mud  or  the 
puddles,  but  ploughed  through  the  one,  and  splashed 
through  the  other,  as  if  both  had  been  the  choicest 
flowers.  Hi?  thoughts  being  in  heaven,  it  was 
natural  that  he  should  suppose  his  feet  were  not 
far  below.  When  they  got  to  the  house,  and  he 
saw  that  there  were  indications  of  a  good-sized 
parlor,  he  was  fairly  enchanted.  They  reached  the 
stoop:  she  opened  the  door,  and  stepped  into  the 
hall  to  permit  him  to  pass  in,  which  he  was  hasten- 
ing to  do,  when  the  burly  form  of  the  young  lady's 
mother  suddenly  confronted  him. 

"  Who's  this  .-*  "  she  abruptly  asked. 

"  O  ma !  "  exclaimed  the  young  girl,  blushing, 
"this  is  Mr.  Parker,  who  has  come  home  with  me." 

"  An'  have  you  invited  him  in  here  such  a  night 
as  this,  with  the  mud  a  foot  deep  ?  Do  you  s'pose 
I've  nothing  to  do  but  traipse  after  a  lot  of  young 
loons,  cleaning  up  their  mud  .-•  My  gracious  !  just 
look  at  them  feet  of  his ! —  chock-full  of  mud  !  Do 
you  s'pose  I'm  going  to  have  that  stuff  tracked  all 
over  my  carpets  }  Not  by  a  good  sight !  Let  him 
take  his  mud  where  he  got  it.  I  won't  have  it  here  ; 
an'  I've  got  no  patience  with  people  who  don't 
know  any  better  than  to  lug  a  swamp  along  with 
em. 

And  she  swept  indignantly  back  to  the  sitting- 
room,  leaving  the  daughter  dumb  with   confusion. 


RUNNING    THE    GANTLET.  141 

and  the  unhappy  Mr.  Parker  staring  vacantly  at 
her.  Recovering  his  senses  sufficiently  to  bid  her 
a  husky  good-night,  he  cast  an  agonized  glance  at 
"  them  feet  of  his,"  and  immediately  lifted  them  in 
a  homeward  direction. 


RUNNING    THE     GANTLET. 

A  NEW  family  was  to  move  into  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  the  neighbors  were  on  nettles  of  curios- 
ity in  regard  to  them.  The  furniture  came  on 
Tuesday  ;  and  Mrs.  Winters,  who  lives  next  door, 
received  a  call  from  Mrs.  Jackson  and  Mrs.  Rey- 
nolds just  as  the  first  load  of  goods  made  its  ap- 
pearance on  the  street. 

"  Do  you  know  the  new  neighbors  are  coming 
to-day  .''  "  inquired  Mrs.  Jackson, 

"  I've  heard  so.  I  wonder  what  kind  of  people 
they  are,"  said  Mrs.  Winters. 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Mrs.  Jackson  ;  "  but  I 
think  their  furniture  is  coming  now." 

"  Is  that  so  .''  "  And  Mrs.  Winters  hastened 
into  the  next  room,  whose  window  commanded  a 
most  desirable  view  of  the  situation. 

The  excellent  ladies  followed  immediately  after 
her ;  and  the  three  forms  filled  up  the  window,  and 
the  three  pairs  of  eyes  peered  through  the  blinds 
in  the  liveliest  expectation.     The  load  drove  up   to 


142  SPRING     IN     DANBURY. 

the  gate  ;  and,  after  what  appeared  to  be  a  need- 
lessly long  time,  the  ropes  were  removed,  and  the 
unloading  commenced. 

"  That  must  be  the  man,"  said  Mrs.  Reynolds, 
indicating  a  gentleman  who  just  staggered  up  with 
a  clock  under  one  arm,  a  looking-glass  under  the 
other,  a  basket  of  something  or  another  in  each 
hand,  and  his  pockets  full  of  vases. 

"  Of  course,"  promptly  chimed  in  her  compan- 
ions, recognizing  at  once  that  the  pack-horse  was 
"  the  man." 

"  He's  nice-looking,"  said  one  of  the  ladies ;  in 
which  the  others  coincided. 

"  What  is  that  at  the  front  of  the  wagon  .-*  " 
asked  Mrs.  Jackson. 

"  I  was  looking  at  that  myself,"  said  Mrs.  Win- 
ters.    "  It's  a  settee,  ain't  it  .■' " 

"  I  guess  it  is,"  replied  Mrs.  Jackson  anxiously. 
"  I  didn't  know  at  first  but  that  it  might  be  a  tete- 
a-tete." 

"  Oh,  no  !  that's  nothing  but  a  settee,  —  a  well- 
worn  one  too,"  said  Mrs.  Reynolds. 

"  Why,  don't  you  suppose  they've  got  a  tete-a- 
tete  .'' "  inquired  Mrs.  Jackson  with  painful  anxiety. 

"  It  tain't  on  that  load,  at  any  rate,"  said  Mrs. 
Reynolds,  whose  carefully  trained  eyes  had  already 
encompassed  and  pierced  the  wagonful  of  furni- 
ture. 

"What  do  you  think  of    those   chairs.-'"  asked 


RUNNING    THE    GANTLET.  I43 

Mrs.  Winters.  "  I  can't  see  them  very  well,  as  my 
eyes  trouble  me  so." 

Mrs.  Jackson  kindly  came  to  her  rescue  at  once. 

"  They're  oak,  I  guess,  an'  a  very  cheap-looking 
article  at  that.  I  do  wonder  if  this  is  their  best 
furniture." 

Further  remark  on  the  topic  was  cut  short  by 
the  appearance  of  a  tired-looking  woman  leading 
two  children.  She  stopped  at  the  load,  and  said 
something  to  the  pack-horse. 

"  That's  her !  "  breathlessly  exclaimed  Mrs.  Jack- 
son. 

"  Well,  there's  nothing  stunning  about  her," 
suggested  Mrs.  Winters. 

"  Gracious  !  I  should  say  not,"  added  Mrs.  Rey- 
nolds. "  She's  mortal  homely  ;  and  she's  got  no 
more  style  than  a  telegraph-pole." 

"  Look  at  that  hat  !  It's  a  fall  hat,  as  sure  as  I 
live  !  "  And  the  speaker  almost  lost  her  breath  at 
the  discovery. 

"  What  sort  of  goods  has  she  on  ?  Is  it  calico, 
or  a  delaine  ?  " 

"  I  can't  see  from  here  ;  but  I  guess  it's  some 
cheap  woollen  goods.     But  see  how  it  fits  ! " 

"  And  she's  got  hoops  on,  as  true  as  I'm  alive !  " 
explosively  announced  Mrs.  Winters. 

"  That's  so,"  chimed  in  the  others  with  a  tone 
of  disgust  that  could  not  be  concealed. 

"  Well,  I  know  what  the  rest  of  the  furniture  is 


144  SPRING     IN     DANBURY. 


without  seeing  it,  now  that  I've  seen  her,"  intelli- 
gently observed  Mrs.  Jackson.  "  They  ain't  got  a 
tete-a-tete  to  their  name,  and  those  chairs  are  their 
best  parlor  chairs  too :  you  can  take  my  word  for 
that.     I  shan't  call  there  in  a  hurry." 

"  Hardly,"  observed  her  companions  with  sig- 
nificant smiles. 

And  the  three  returned  to  the  other  room  to 
talk  of  the  revival. 

Reader,  if  you  have  to  move,  move  in  the  dead 
of  the  night.  It's  the  best  time ;  and  you  don't 
need  much  of  a  torchlight  procession,  either. 


Whether  this  is  the  best  time  to  burn  garden 
rubbish  is  a  question  susceptible  of  considerable  dis- 
cussion ;  but  it  is  the  popular  season.  Great  care 
should  be  taken  in  the  composition  of  the  burning 
heaps.  If  there  are  no  old  rubbers  handy,  a  length 
of  oilcloth  makes  a  very  good  substitute.  There 
is,  of  course,  nothing  that  emits  the  peculiar  flavor 
of  burning  rubber,  unless  it  is  hair ;  but  hair  is  too 
costly  to  be  considered  for  a  moment.  A  piece  of 
old  oilcloth,  about  three  feet  or  so  in  length,  sub- 
jected to  a  slow  flame,  can  be  smelled  by  the  most 
ordinary  nose  the  distance  of  four  gardens  ;  and  to 
many  it  is  just  as  satisfying  as  burning  rubber.  It 
is  best  that  the  man  should  gather   the    rubbish. 


AN     EARLY    DELICACY.  145 

This  is  SO  evident  as  to  be  not  worthy  of  any  dis- 
cussion. A  woman  with  a  long-handled  rake  is 
more  dangerous  than  a  wet  cellar.  What  rubbish 
she  gets  together  scarcely  compensates  for  the 
damage  to  the  rake  or  to  herself,  or  to  any  one 
who  happens  to  be  in  the  same  yard  at  the  time, 
and  is  too  gallant  or  too  helpless  to  take  the  near- 
est fence  at  a  flying  leap.  The  crowning  perform- 
ance is  when  she  has  got  her  skirts  inextricably 
tangled  up  with  the  implement.  She  then  goes 
into  the  house,  leaving  the  rake  at  the  foot  of  the 
back-stoop,  with  the  teeth  upward. 


AN     EARLY     DELICACY. 

A  SALLOW-FACED  man,  dressed  in  faded  and 
insufficient  garments,  with  a  knotted,  sandy  beard, 
skipped  lightly  into  a  Danbury  dry-goods  store 
yesterday  afternoon.  He  had  hugged  up  close  to 
him  in  One  arm  a  glass  jar  with  a  bit  of  dingy 
muslin  over  it.  He  wanted  to  see  the  proprietor  ; 
and  a  clerk  obligingly  pointed  out  that  gentleman 
to  him,  who  was  then  engaged  in  the  herculean 
task  of  selling  a  lady  a  half-yard  of  linen.  The 
stranger  stalked  up  to  him. 

"  Be  you  the  boss,  mister  ?  "  he  asked  with  a 
seductive  smile. 

"  Yes,  sir.     Any  thing  I  can  do  for  you  ?  " 


146  SPRING     IN     DANBURY. 

"Yes,"  said  the  stranger,  carefully  depositing 
the  jar  on  the  counter,  and  with  an  air  as  if  the 
counter  had  been  erected  with  this  object  specially 
in  view.  "  I've  got  a  prime  article  of  horse-radish 
here  that  I  want  to  sell  you." 

"  I  don't  want  to  buy  any,"  said  the  merchant 
with  a  tinge  of  pettishness  in  his  tone. 

"  It's  a  prime  article,  I  can  tell  ye." 

"  I  don't  want  it." 

"  But  you  ain't  looked  at  it,  you  ain't  tried  it,'' 
argued  the  vender. 

"  I  tell  you  I  don't  want  it." 

"  You  can  have  it  for  fifty  cents,  although  it's 
worth  seventy-five.  I'll  dump  it  right  out  in  a 
paper  ;  or  I'll  leave  the  jar,  and  you  kin  bring  it 
back  to-morrow." 

"  I  don't  want  it,  I  say  ;  take  it  away,"  demanded 
the  merchant,  flushing  slightly  in  the  face, 

"  Don't  you  git  in  a  hurry,  boss,"  persuasively 
urged  the  proprietor  of  the  condiment.  "  You  don't 
git  such  horse-radish  as  this  every  day,  I  kin  in- 
form ye.  I  growed  the  roots  that  came  from 
myself,  by  jickey !  I  growed  'em  back  of  a  barn; 
an'  I  took  as  much  care  of  their  cultivation  as  if 
they  had  been  my  own  flesh  and  blood.  Why, 
I've  got  up  in  the  dead  of  night,  with  a  lantern, 
an'  went  out  back  of  that  barn  an'  tucked  them 
up,  as  it  were.  An'  I  said  to  my  ole  woman,  se2 
I,  '  Ole  woman,  them  roots  will  go  to  make  glad 


AN     EARLY     DELICACY.  147 

the  heart  of  a  merchant-prince,'  sez  I ;  an'  here 
they  be,  grated  up  an'  ready  for  the  table.  What 
do  you  say  .''  " 

"  I  say,  as  I  said  before,  that  I  don't  want  )our 
stuff,  and  I  want  you  to  take  it  away  from  here  at 
once,"  said  the  merchant,  who  had  now  become 
very  red  in  the  face. 

"Stuff!"  ejaculated  the  man  with  a  start,  while 
his  eyes  watered,  and  his  under-lip  trembled. 
''Stuff!  You  call  tJiat  stuff, — that  which  grew 
right  behind  my  own  barn,  an'  which  has  had  a 
lantern  above  it  in  the  dead  of  night,  —  grated  up 
by  my  own  hands,  an'  with  a  pint  of  the  best 
cider-vinegar  in  the  country  dancing  through  its 
veins  .-•  —  you  call  it  stuff,  do  you  ?  an'  you  stand 
right  here,  an'  in  the  broad  light  of  day  declare 
that  none  of  that  horse-radish  will  fresco  your  cold 
meat,  an'  set  up  before  your  children  like  a  thing 
of  beauty  }  All  right."  [He  gathered  the  jar  up 
in  his  arm  again.]  "  You  can't  have  this  horse- 
radish now.  You  needn't  whimper  for  it.  Not  a 
word  from  you,"  he  added,  with  as  much  earnest- 
ness as  if  the  merchant  had  dropped  on  his  knees, 
and  was  agonizingly  begging  for  a  hopeless  favor. 
"You  ain't  got  money  enough  in  your  hull  store  to 
buy  a  grain  of  it.  You  shouldn't  git  as  much  as  a 
smell  of  it  if  you  was  to  git  right  down  on  your 
snoot,  an'  howl  till  you  were  cracked  open.  Gosh 
dum  me  !  "  he  suddenly  shouted,  "  I'll  go  out  on  the 


148  SPRING     IN     DANBURY. 


boundless  prairie,  an'  eat  every  bit  of  it  myself,  if 
it  burns  a  hole  clean  through  me  as  big  as  a  tunnel, 
an'  sets  the  prairie  afire,  an'  devastates  the  land." 

And  with  this  terrific  threat  he  strode  gloomily 
away  in  search  of  a  prairie. 


There  is  one  thing  on  which  a  husband  and 
wife  never  can  and  never  will  agree ;  and  that  is 
on  what  constitutes  a  well-beaten  carpet.  When 
the  article  is  clean,  it's  a  man's  impression  that  it 
should  be  removed,  and  he  be  allowed  to  wash  up, 
and  quietly  retire.  But  a  woman's  appetite  for 
carpet-beating  is  never  appeased  while  a  man  has 
a  whole  muscle  in  his  body ;  and,  if  he  waited 
until  she  voluntarily  gave  the  signal  to  stop,  he 
might  beat  away  until  he  dropped  down  dead.  It 
is  directly  owing  to  his  superior  strength  of  mind 
that  the  civilized  world  is  not  a  widow  this  day. 


MAKING    THE     GARDEN. 

We  suppose  there  is  a  time  that  comes  to  every 
man  when  he  feels  he  should  like  to  have  a  gar- 
den. If  he  takes  such  a  notion,  he  will  tell  his 
wife  of  it.  This  is  the  first  mistake  he  makes  ;  and 
the  ground  thus  lost  is  never  fully  recovered.     She 


MAKING    THE    GARDEN.  149 

draws  her  chair  up  to  his,  and  lays  one  hand  on  his 
knee,  and  purses  up  her  Hps  into  a  whistle  of 
expectation,  —  the  vixen  !  —  and  tells  about  her 
mother's  garden,  and  how  nice  it  is  to  have  vegeta- 
bles fresh  from  the  vines  every  morning;  and  she 
will  go  right  out  and  plan  the  whole  thing  herself. 
And  so  she  does.  He  takes  his  spade,  and  works 
himself  into  a  perspiration  ;  and  she  tramps  around 
under  a  frightful  sun-bonnet,  and  gets  under  his 
feet,  and  shrieks  at  the  worms,  and  loses  her  shoe, 
and  makes  him,  first  vexed,  and  then  mad,  and 
then  ferocious.  After  the  garden  is  spaded,  he 
gets  the  seed,  and  finds  she  has  been  thoughtful 
enough  to  open  the  papers,  and  empty  thirteen 
varieties  of  different  vegetables  into  one  dish. 
This  leads  him  to  step  out  doors,  where  he  com- 
munes with  Nature  alone  for  a  moment.  Then  he 
takes  up  the  seed,  and  a  hoe,  and  a  line,  and  two 
pegs,  and  starts  for  the  garden.  And  then  she 
puts  on  that  awful  bonnet,  and  brings  up  the  rear 
with  a  long-handled  rake,  and  a  pocketful  of  beans, 
and  petunia-seed,  and  dahlia-bulbs.  While  he  is 
planting  the  corn,  she  stands  on  the  cucumber-hills 
and  rakes  over  the  seed-pan.  Then  she  puts  the 
rake-handle  over  her  shoulder,  and  the  rake-teeth 
into  his  hair,  and  walks  over  the  other  beds.  He 
don't  find  the  squash-seed  until  she  moves ;  and 
•then  he  digs  them  out  of  the  earth  with  his  thumb. 
She  plants  the  beet-seed  herself,  putting  about  two 


.-50  SPRING     IN     DANBURY. 

feet  of  earth  and  sod  upon  them.  Then  she  takes 
advantage  of  his  absorption  in  other  matters,  and 
puts  down  the  petunia-seed  in  one  spot ;  and  after- 
wards digs  them  up,  and  puts  them  down  in 
another  place.  The  beans  she  conceals  in  the 
earth  wherever  she  can  find  a  place,  and  puts  the 
bulbs  in  the  cucumber-hills.  Then  she  tips  over 
the  seed-pan  again,  and  apologizes  ;  and  steps  on 
two  of  the  best  tomato-plants,  and  says,  "  Oh  my  ! " 
vi^hich  in  no  way  resembles  what  he  says.  About 
this  time  she  discovers  a  better  place  for  the  petu- 
nia-seed ;  but,  having  forgotten  where  she  last  put 
them,  she  proceeds  to  find  them,  and,  within  an  in- 
credibly brief  space  of  time,  succeeds  in  unearthing 
pretty  much  every  thing  that  has  been  put  down. 
After  confusing  things  so  there  is  no  earthly  possi- 
bility of  ever  unravelling  them  again,  she  says  the 
sun  is  killing  her,  and  goes  over  to  the  fence,  where 
she  stands  four  hours,  telling  the  woman  next  door 
about  an  aunt  of  hers  who  was  confined  to  her  bed 
for  eleven  years,  and  had  eight  doctors  from  the 
city ;  but  nothing  would  give  her  any  relief  until 
an  old  lady  —  But  you  have  heard  it  before.  The 
next  day  a  man  comes  to  his  ofBce  to  get  the  pay 
for  a  patent  seed-sower  which  his  wife  has  ordered  ; 
and  he  no  more  than  gets  away,  before  the  paten- 
tee of  a  new  lawn-mower  comes  in  with  an  order 
for  ten  dollars  ;  and  he,  in  turn,  is  followed  by  the* 
corn-sheller    man ;    and    the    miserable    gardener 


GETTING    YOUR    VEGETABLES     FRESH.       151 

Starts  for  home  to  head  off  the  robbers,  and  finds 
his  wife  at  the  gate  with  his  own  hat  on,  and  just 
about  to  close  a  bargain  with  a  smootlvfaced  indi- 
vidual for  a  two-hundred-dollar  mowing-machine, 
and  a  pearl-handled,  ivory-mounted  hay-cutter.  He 
first  knocks  the  agricultural  implement  agent  on 
the  head,  and  then  drags  the  miserable  woman 
into  the  house,  and,  locking  the  door,  gives  himself 
up  to  his  emotions. 


GETTING    YOUR     VEGETABLES    FRESH. 

The  chief  charm  of  having  a  garden  of  your  own 
is  the  fresh  state  of  the  vegetables  which  daily 
garnish  your  table.  Any  one  who  has  always 
depended  upon  a  store  for  his  supply  does  not 
have  the  faintest  conception  of  the  superior  flavor, 
tone,  and  elasticity  of  vegetables  gathered  fresh 
every  morning  from  your  own  garden.  Aside 
from  this  benefit,  gardening  is  the  most  health- 
giving  occupation  known  to  man ;  unless  we  except 
that  of  a  physician,  which  we  don't.  There  is  a 
man  who  lives  on  the  other  side  of  our  street,  who 
has  a  garden,  and  has  fresh  vegetables  every  day, 
our  folks  say.  We  don't  know  any  thing  about 
that ;  but  we  do  know  he  has  a  garden,  because  we 
see  him  out  in  it  every  morning,  in  shirt-sleeves 
and  slippers,  picking  cucumber  and  squash  bugs. 
We  know  when  he  gets  hold  of  one,  by  the  way 


152  SPRING     IN     DANBURY. 

he  shuts  up  his  mouth  and  fingers.  Sometimes  he 
doesn't  catch  the  one  he  is  after,  and  sometimes 
he  makes  a  half-dozen  passes  at  one  bug.  Every 
time  he  makes  one  of  those  passes  he  says  some- 
thing. The  first  remark  is  not  very  plainly  heard, 
but  the  next  is  quite  so  ;  and  the  observation  that 
follows  after  the  sixth  unfortunate  pass  appears 
to  go  completely  through  our  head.  He  jumps 
around  this  way  for  about  an  hour,  and,  having 
got  his  blood  up  to  fever-heat,  goes  in  and  drinks 
a  cup  of  boiling  coffee,  and  then  goes  to  business. 
At  noon  he  goes  out  there  to  kill  a  couple  more 
bugs,  but  doesn't  do  it.  He  finds  two  hens  from 
the  next  house  in  the  cucumber-patch.  They  have 
scratched  down  to  the  cool  earth,  and  thrown  the 
parched  soil  of  two  cucumber-hills  over  their  backs, 
and,  with  one  eye  closed  in  a  speculative  way,  are 
thinking  of  the  intense  heat  and  the  short  grass- 
crop.  When  they  see  him,  and  the  preparations 
of  welcome  he  has  hastily  got  together,  they  get 
up  and  leave.  The  first  thing  he  throws  at  them 
knocks  a  limb  from  a  choice  pear-tree ;  and  the 
next  thing,  which  is  generally  a  pail,  goes  through 
a  glass  cover  to  some  choice  fiower-seeds,  and 
loses  its  bail.  He  then  goes  into  the  house  and 
gets  some  more  boiling  coffee,  and  says  the  man 
next  door  is  —  (something  we  never  put  in  print)  — 
and  goes  to  business  again.  At  night  he  comes 
home  and  kills  bugs   until  supper-time,  and  then 


GENTLE    SPRING     IN     THE    HOUSEHOLD.        153 

goes  in  with  his  fingers  smelling  as  if  he  had 
shaken  hands  with  twelve  hundred  bed-bugs.  He 
keeps  his  boy  home  from  school  to  watch  the 
garden,  and  guard  it  against  the  encroachment  of 
straying  cattle.  The  boy  gets  several  other  boys 
to  come  over  and  help  him.  They  take  a  half- 
dozen  sheets  out  of  the  wash,  and  put  up  a  circus 
in  the  back  part  of  the  yard  ;  and  some  vicious  boy 
who  hasn't  pins  enough  to  get  in  leaves  the  front- 
gate  open  ;  and,  when  the  circus  is  in  the  midst  of 
its  glory,  the  cry  of  "  A  cow  in  the  garden  !  "  breaks 
up  the  performance,  and  sends  both  artists  and 
audience  in  pursuit  of  the  beast.  When  our  neigh- 
bor comes  home  that  night  to  gather  vegetables 
fresh  from  the  garden,  and  smash  bugs  with  his 
finger  and  thumb,  and  goes  out  and  looks  at  the 
destruction,  it  is  altogether  likely  the  first  thing  he 
thinks  of  is  the  danger  in  eating  store-vegetables 
which  have  been  picked  some  days  before,  and 
allowed  to  swelter  and  wither  in  noxious  barrels, 
and  how  much  better  it  is  to  have  every  thing 
fresh  from  the  garden.  But  we  are  not  certain  ; 
neither  is  the  proprietor  of  the  circus. 


GENTLE     SPRING     IN    THE    HOUSEHOLD. 

We  frankly  confess  that  we  do  not  understand 
why  the  shaving-cup  is  packed  at  the  bottom  of  a 


154  SPRING     IN     DANBURY. 

barrel  of  tinware,  or  why  a  vest  is  used  to  wrap  up 
a  ham. 

The  only  way  of  putting  down  a  stair-carpet 
without  getting  mad  is  to  take  the  stairs  out  in  the 
yard. 

Many  articles  which  have  become  pleasant  to  us 
from  long  association  look  dreadfully  cheap  and 
dingy  when  loaded  on  a  cart,  with  the  neighboring 
window  in  direct  range. 

It  is  carrying  two  lengths  of  stove-pipe,  with  two 
elbows  at  opposite  angles,  through  a  narrow  hall, 
and  up  a  carpeted  stair,  without  dropping  soot  or 
knocking  off  the  plaster,  that  is  filling  our  lunatic- 
asylums. 

Nothing  will  start  a  man's  temper  so  quick  as  to 
find  the  rubbish  which  he  has  thrown  out  of  the 
back  of  the  house  as  worthless  appearing  around 
at  the  front,  under  the  charge  of  his  patient  and 
hopeful  wife. 

Which  is  heavier,  —  a  pound  of  lead,  or  a  pound 
of  feathers  ^  —  0/d  Coimndrmn. 

A  single  pound  of  feathers  is  just  as  heavy  as  a 
pound  of  lead  ;  but  twenty-five  pounds  of  feathers 
in  a  tick,  in  a  narrow  and  crooked  hall-way,  is  about 


GENTLE    SPRING     IN     THE     HOUSEHOLD.        155 

as  heavy  as  two  hundred  and  eighteen  pounds  of 
lead. 

Years  of  experience  in  moving  enables  a  carman 
to  distinguish,  in  an  apparently  indifferent  glance, 
the  light  from  the  heavy  end  of  a  stove,  or  which 
is  the  best  position  on  the  stairs,  —  in  front,  or 
behind.  Against  these  fearful  odds  the  head  of 
the  family  stands  no  chance  whatever. 

Then  there  is  the  carman  who  is  to  move  you. 
He  is  engaged  the  day  before.  He  says  it  is  going 
to  be  so  busy,  that  there  will  be  some  difficulty  in 
accommodating  you ;  but,  if  you  can  have  your 
things  ready  at  seven  a.m.,  he  thinks  he  can  fix  it. 
You  are  up  at  five  o'clock  that  morning.  At  half- 
past  six  a  full  load  of  furniture  is  out  in  front,  and 
another  load  is  stacked  up  in  the  hall  and  on  the 
stairs.  Your  coat  is  torn  down  the  back,  one 
thumb  is  out  of  joint,  and  a  pint  of  soot  and  an 
equal  quantity  of  perspiration  are  fighting  for  the 
mastery  of  your  person.  At  eleven  a.m.  the  car- 
man makes  his  appearance,  and  says  we  are  going 
to  have  rain. 

It  is    singular   the  influence   a   stove-pipe   has 

upon  a  married  man.  There  is    nothing    in    this 

world  he  respects  so  much.     A  passing   load  of 

furniture   may,  in  its  general    appearance,  be    so 


156  SPRING    IN    DANBURY. 

grotesque  as  to  call  forth  the  merriment  of  the 
thoughtless  young ;  but,  if  there  is  a  piece  of  stove- 
pipe in  it  no  larger  than  a  hat,  he  will  not  laugh. 
We  don't  care  who  the  man  is,  how  he  has  been 
brought  up,  what  is  his  position,  wealth,  or  influ- 
ence :  there  is  that  about  a  length  of  stove-pipe 
which  takes  hold  upon  his  very  soul  with  a  force 
that  he  is  helpless  to  resist ;  and  the  married  man 
who  can  stand  within  reaching-distance  of  a  stove- 
pipe, without  feeling  his  heart  throb,  his  hands 
clinch,  his  hair  raise,  and  his  throat  grow  dry  and 
husky,  is  an  anomaly  which  does  not  exist.  Stove- 
pipe has  only  one  ingredient,  and  that  is  contrari- 
ness. It  is  the  most  perverse  article  in  existence. 
It  has  done  more  to  create  heart-aches,  imbitter 
lives,  break  up  homes,  and  scrape  off  skin,  than 
all  other  domestic  articles  together.  The  domestic 
screw-driver  pales  its  ineffectual  fires  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  stove-pipe ;  and  the  family  hammer  just 
paws  in  the  dust,  and  weeps.  We  don't  care  how 
much  pains  are  taken  to  remember  and  keep  in 
order  the  links  :  they  will  not  come  together  as 
they  came  apart.  This  is  not  a  joke  ;  this  is  not 
an  exaggeration  :  it  is  simply  the  solemn,  heaven- 
born  truth.  If  we  appear  unduly  excited  in  this 
matter,  we  are  sorry  for  it  ;  but  we  cannot  help  it. 
We  cannot  write  upon  the  subject  at  all  without 
feeling  the  blood  tingle  at  our  very  fingers'  ends. 


GeITTLE  SPEUfa  IN  THE  HOUSEHOLD.  —  Page  157. 


I 


GENTLE    SPRING    IN    THE     HOUSEHOLD.       157 

One  of  the  most  disastrous  elements  in  a  moving 
is  a  small  boy  with  an  aspiring  disposition.  If  he 
carries  any  thing,  it  must  be  a  chair,  which  he  takes 
on  his  head,  with  the  back  at  the  front,  so  as  to 
prevent  him  from  seeing  where  he  is  going,  and 
with  the  erect  legs  in  range  of  the  chandelier  and 
upper  door-casings.  Thus  equipped,  he  strikes  a 
military  step,  improvising  his  mouth  into  a  trum- 
pet, and  starts  out.  In  less  than  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  he  has  that  chair  safely  on  the  cart,  where  it 
is  not  wanted,  and  is  hurrying  back  after  another. 
Before  the  carman  has  returned  for  the  second 
load,  the  one  boy  has  developed  into  eight ;  each 
boy  with  a  chair,  each  boy  under  feet,  and  each  boy 
making  as  much  noise  as  a  planing-mill  on  a  damp 
day.  If  a  boy  cannot  get  a  chair  to  carry,  he 
wants  two  bed-posts.  He  wants  two,  so  he  can 
carry  one  under  each  arm.  Then  he  starts  down 
stairs.  First  the  posts  cross  each  other  at  the 
front,  and  nearly  throw  him  down  ;  then  they  cross 
at  the  back,  and  the  front  ends  fly  off  at  a  tangent, 
one  of  them  digging  into  the  kalsomined  wall,  and 
the  other  entangling  in  the  banisters.  But  he 
won't  let  one  of  them  go,  but  hangs  on  to  both 
with  exasperating  obstinacy.  In  the  mean  time, 
the  carman,  who  is  working  by  the  load,  and  not 
by  the  day,  is  waiting  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  and 
wishing  that  he  had  that  boy  back  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains   for   about   fifteen    minutes;    and    the 


15S  SPRING     IN     DANBURY. 

anxious  father,  with  a  straw  bed  in  his  arms,  and 
his  eyes  full  of  dust,  is  at  the  head  of  the  stairs, 
waiting  to  come  down,  and  vociferating  at  the  top 
of  his  voice,  until  the  dust  from  the  tick  gets  into 
his  throat,  and  precipitates  him  into  a  violent  fit  of 
coughing.  By  the  time  the  third  load  is  on  the 
way,  the  novelty  of  helping  carry  furniture  is  worn 
off  to  the  boy  ;  and  he  and  his  companions  are 
firing  rubbish  from  the  garret  at  each  other,  or 
fooling  with  the  horse  just  as  some  heavy  object 
is  being  lifted  on  to  the  cart.  The  best  plan  for 
a  moving  family  that  has  a  boy  is  to  get  him  a 
half-bushel  of  frozen  potatoes  to  throw,  and  set 
him  out  in  the  suburbs  until  the  affair  is  over. 

A  woman's  idea  of  moving  is  to  wear  a  pair  of 
odd  shoes,  her  husband's  linen  duster,  a  damaged 
hoopskirt,  and  a  last  year's  jockey  turned  hind-side 
before.  Thus  formidably  attired,  with  a  pocket- 
ful of  screws,  nails,  and  picture-cords,  and  a  limber- 
bladed  case-knife  in  one  hand,  and  a  broom  in  the 
other,  she  is  prepared  to  believe  that  something 
is  about  to  be  done.  The  first  move  she  makes 
is  at  the  parlor  carpet.  She  takes  up  two  tacks 
in  about  fifteen  minutes,  puts  them  in  a  pint 
saucer,  and  sets  the  saucer  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor,  where  it  will  not  be  in  the  way.  Then  she 
goes  into  the  hall  to  tell  the  carman  to  be  careful 
in  bringing  down  the  large  rocking-chair,  as   her 


GENTLE    SPRING     IN     THE     HOUSEHOLD.        159 

mother  gave  it  to  her.  After  that  she  darts  into 
the  kitchen,  stops  suddenly  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  and  says,  "  Now,  what  is  it  I  was  going 
to  do  .-* "  and  then  races  up  stairs  with  a  great 
bustle,  on  suddenly  remembering  that  a  pair  of 
vases  were  not  packed  away  with  the  bedding. 
But  they  were  packed  away  ;  and,  when  she  dis- 
covers the  fact,  she  comes  back,  saying  that  she 
has  so  much  to  do,  she  don't  really  know  what  she 
is  about.  Afterwards  she  draws  out  the  glass-ware 
to  put  it  in  a  barrel ;  and,  after  packing  away  a 
couple  of  tumblers  and  a  salt-cellar,  takes  down 
her  dresses,  and  examines  them  with  as  much  care 
as  if  she  was  going  to  a  ball,  and  the  carriage  was 
already  at  the  door.  In  the  midst  of  this  survey 
she  suddenly  thinks  of  something  else,  and  rushes 
off  to  attend  to  it,  —  the  case-knife  in  one  hand, 
the  broom  in  the  other.  When  the  stove  is  taken 
down,  she  is  there ;  when  the  bureau  is  being 
lifted,  she  is  in  the  exact  way  of  the  man  who  is 
going  backward ;  when  the  carman  gets  up  on 
the  best  chair  to  take  down  a  frame,  she  is  there 
to  rebuke  him.  She  attends  to  every  thing.  She 
makes  her  husband  go  out  doors  and  clean  his 
feet.  She  gets  in  the  way  when  they  are  moving 
the  ice-chest.  She  leaves  the  dust-pan  just  where 
the  carman's  assistant  can  step  on  the  handle, 
and  have  it  turn  with  him  at  a  most  unfortunate 
time.     She  gets   the  broom-stick    entangled   with 


l6o  SPRING     IN     DANBURY. 

her  husband's  legs,  which  makes  him  swear.  She 
tries  to  Uft  a  two-bushel  basket  of  crockery,  and, 
finding  she  can't  do  it.  tells  the  carman  she  is  not 
so  strong  as  she  used  to  be ;  and  then  contents 
herself  with  carrying  down  an  old  wooden  chair, 
which  has  just  been  brought  up  stairs  to  be  used  in 
removing  things  from  the  walls,  and  which  has  to 
be  found  and  brought  up  again  by  some  one  else. 
But  it  is  in  loading  where  she  makes  herself  con- 
spicuous. She  brings  out  a  ten-inch  looking-glass, 
and  wants  it  laid  on  the  bottom  of  the  cart  ;  and 
she  don't  want  any  thing  else  to  go  on  until  she 
can  get  her  work-basket.  She  thinks  the  stove 
and  bed-room  set  should  ride  together ;  and  is  quite 
confident,  that,  if  the  bureau  is  permitted  to  stand 
on  the  cart  as  it  does,  it  will  never  again  be  fit  to  be 
seen.  The  carman  steps  on  her,  and  walks  over 
her,  and  is  swearing  all  the  while  down  in  his 
throat  ;  but  she  don't  mind  him.  She  knows  that 
that  load  isn't  put  on  as  it  ought  to  be,  and  that 
there  is  room  for  lots  of  things  yet.  She  brings 
on  a  clock,  and  a  length  of  damaged  stove-pipe, 
and  a  pair  of  old  boots  covered  with  mildew,  and 
a  small  basket  of  empty  spice-boxes,  and  an  old 
gaiter,  and  the  back  of  a  worn-out  vest,  and 
wants  them  all  put  on  the  cart.  She  says  there 
is  plenty  of  room,  and  the  things  will  come  useful 
some  time,  and  they  don't  take  up  any  room  any- 
way ;  and,  just  as  the  cart  is   moving  away,   she 


GENTLE    SPRING     IN     THE     HOUSEHOLD.        l6l 

rushes  after  it  with  a  second-hand  peach-can 
stuffed  with  debris,  which  she  successfully  intro- 
duces into  the  load,  and  then  comes  back  in 
triumph.  And,  while  the  carman  is  gone,  she 
is  just  as  busy  as  she  can  be,  telling  the  woman 
next  door  that  she  can  put  just  three  times  as 
much  stuff  on  that  cart  as  is  on  it ;  and,  if  she^ 
has  got  to  move  again,  she  believes  she'll  give 
right  up  and  die. 

It  is  not  the  moving,  so  much  as  the  "  putting  to 
rights,"  which  is  so  exhaustive  to  the  nervous  forces 
of  the  entire  family.  This  is  due,  in  a  great  meas- 
ure, to  the  carelessness  in  moving.  When  a  man 
has  a  great  deal  to  do,  and  little  time  to  do  it  in, 
he  takes  no  thought  for  the  future.  He  throws  a 
half-dozen  screws  into  a  barrel,  with  an  idea  that 
they  will  turn  up  all  right  when  he  wants  them. 
The  main  object  is  to  get  them  in  some  place  now. 
So  when  he  comes  to  put  up  the  curtain-fixtures  in 
the  new  house,  and  finds  the  ingredients  in  a  mass 
of  confusion,  it  is  simply  because  he  took  them 
down  that  way,  and  cared  only  for  present  ease, 
without  any  regard  to  future  convenience.  In 
putting  up  the  pictures,  the  nails  are  found  in  the 
bottom  of  a  bureau-drawer  under  a  pile  of  towels, 
and  the  hammer  is  at  the  bottom  of  a  barrel  of 
stovepipe  in  the  cellar.  Sometimes  an  hour  is  con- 
sumed in  searching  for  a  single  stove-leg.  The  bread 


l62  SPRING     IN     DANBURY. 

is  found  rolled  up  in  a  carpet  in  an  upper  bedroom, 
the  coffee-pot  tied  up  in  the  bedding,  the  sugar  in  a 
barrel  of  carpet-rags,  the  tea-canister  in  the  scuttle 
under  the  flatirons,  the  spoons  in  with  a  basket  of 
empty  medicine-bottles,  and  the  table-cloth  tied 
up  with  a  half-bushel  of  tinware.  The  man  does 
about  all  the  work.  The  woman  goes  round  with 
a  broom,  and  sweeps  up  the  soot,  and  feels  of  the 
mouldings  to  see  if  they  have  been  damaged,  and 
examines  the  paint  to  see  if  it  is  marred.  She  has 
been  up  the  day  before  with  a  hired  woman  and 
cleaned  the  house,  and  she  is  very  particular  about 
its  condition.  If  she  sees  a  lump  of  dirt  in  the 
hall  from  the  heel  of  the  carman,  she  carefully 
hoists  it  upon  the  dust-pan,  and  says  that  all  she  is 
fit  for  is  to  slave  her  life  out  cleaning,  without  doing 
a  bit  of  good  ;  and  then  goes  half  way  down  the 
garden  to  throw  the  debris  away.  She  is  ten  min- 
utes doing  it ;  and  a  man  would  give  it  one  kick, 
and  send  it  out  of  doors  in  an  instant.  When  she 
ain't  tumbling  over  the  wrong  articles,  or  mispla- 
cing the  right  ones,  she  is  close  at  his  heels,  giving 
advice,  and  asking  him  if  he  thinks  a  woman  is 
made  of  cast-iron.  When  he  puts  down  the  car- 
pet, she  stands  on  the  breadth  he  is  trying  to 
stretch,  and  tells  him  she  believes  she  will  drop 
dead  in  her  tracks  if  she  don't  get  a  chance  to  sit 
down  pretty  soon.  Sometimes  she  is  gone  from 
sight  for  nearly  half  an  hour,  and  the  distant  sounds 


Putting  Down  Carpets.  —  Page  162. 


GENTLE    SPRING    IN    THE    HOUSEHOLD.      163 

of  a  hammer  are  heard.  When  she  returns,  she 
has  another  finger  in  a  rag,  and  smells  stronger 
than  ever  of  arnica.  Then,  when  the  bureau  is 
being  moved,  and  her  husband  is  struggling  under 
his  share  till  every  muscle  in  his  body  is  as  stiff  as 
steel,  and  his  face  like  a  beet,  and  his  eyes  protrud- 
ing, and  the  ends  of  his  fingers  aching  most  acutely, 
she  is  round  again.  They  are  going  over  the  best 
carpet ;  and  she  hastens  back  of  him,  because  his 
boots  are  muddy,  and,  with  a  show  of  dexterity, 
tries  to  get  a  length  of  old  rag-carpet  over  the  new 
in  the  way  he  is  backing;  and  his  feet  catch  in  it, 
and  he  yells ;  and  then  he  stumbles  and  yells  again, 
and  catches  himself  only  to  stumble  once  more,  and 
come  down  with  the  bureau  on  top  of  him,  and 
the  carman  on  top  of  the  bureau.  Then  he  jumps 
up,  and  makes  the  most  extraordinary  statement 
at  the  top  of  his  voice  ;  and  the  carman  limps 
around  with  his  countenance  full  of  reproach  ;  and 
she  says  she  has  always  lived  in  a  hog-pen,  and 
always  expects  to,  and  then  goes  into  the  next 
house  to  have  a  good  crying-spell  and  a  cup  of 
tea. 


SUMMER    IN    DANBURY. 


i 


\ 


SUMMER   IN    DANBURY. 


TOMMY    MIGGS'S    VISION. 

Little  Tommy  Miggs  was  observed  to  be  very 
restless  in  school  all  of  Friday  morning.  It  was 
quite  evident  to  those  who  observed  him  that  some- 
thing of  unusual  importance  was  resting  upon  his 
mind.  He  missed  the  easiest  questions,  and  picked 
up  the  wrong  books,  and  once  tried  to  do  a  sum  on 
his  slate  with  a  willow  whistle.  The  boy  in  the 
next  seat  to  Tommy  was  the  only  one  who  did  not 
wonder  at  his  uneasiness.  Five  distinct  times 
Tommy  found  and  availed  himself  of  the  oppor- 
tunity to  whisper  in  a  sepulchral  tone  to  this  young 
man  that  his  ma  was  going  to  have  a  strawberry 
shortcake  for  dinner,  and  that  he  was  to  hurry 
home  just  as  soon  as  school  was  out.  There  was 
every  encouraging  indication  in  Tommy's  manner 
of  the  most  flattering  speed  being  made  between 
the  school  and  his  house  when  the  time  came. 
None  of  these  opportunities  for  verbal  communi- 
cation were  of  sufficient  length  to  permit  of  more 

167 


l68  SUMMER     IN     DANBURY. 

than  a  hurried  announcement  of  the  fact ;  but,  by 
a  series  of  diagrams  hastily  improvised  with  his 
hands,  Uttle  Tommy  succeeded  in  conveying  to 
the  mind  of  his  friend  an  idea  of  the  size  of  the 
cake,  which  was  to  be,  without  doubt,  a  "  booster." 

The  moment  Tommy  got  outside  the  building, 
he  "lit  out"  for  home.  Fully  two-thirds  of  the 
distance  he  made  on  a  run,  and  the  balance  at  a 
quick  walk.  As  he  reached  the  gate,  panting 
heavily,  but  full  of  glad  purposes,  he  met  his  two 
little  brothers.  Very  little  they  were  too ;  but 
there  was  enough  of  them  to  express  enough  of 
any  sort  of  deep  emotion  to  attract  attention. 

"  Halloo ! "  said  Tommy,  with  a  sudden  sinking 
of  spirits  :  "  is  ma  sick,  Georgy  }  " 

Georgy  merely  shook  his  head,  as  if  afraid  to 
open  his  lips,  and  thus  disclose  what  was  evidently 
a  more  dreadful  calamity  than  that  which  Tommy's 
inquiry  suggested. 

"  What  is  it.  Toady  ? "  asked  Tommy,  looking 
straight  in  Toady's  extended  eyes. 

"  O  Tommy !  "  ejaculated  Toady.  And  then 
the  little  fellow  dug  his  knuckles  into  his  eyes,  and 
began  to  whimper. 

"  What  is  it,  I  tell  ye  ? "  And  Tommy  shook 
Toady  to  conceal  his  agitation. 

"  Company's  come,"  sputtered  Toady. 

"  Company  .''  "  gasped  Tommy,  catching  hold  of 
the  post. 


TOMMY    MIGGS'S    VISION.  169 

"Yes,"  volunteered  little  George:  "uncle  Rich- 
ard, and  aunt  Jane,  and  aunt  Ann.  And  they  are 
goin'  to  stay  to  dinner." 

It  was  just  as  well  Tommy  had  hold  of  the  gate- 
post, or  he  must  surely  have  gone  over  on  his 
back.  Poor  child  !  All  through  that  long,  hot  fore- 
noon he  had  drawn  visions  of  pastry  glory,  through 
which  ran  the  rich  heart-blood  of  the  loveliest  fruit 
the  gods  e'er  blessed.  The  last  injunction  of  his 
mother  had  been  an  unbroken  song  in  his  soul 
during  the  weary  hours  ;  and,  every  time  he  was 
prompted  to  faint,  his  flagging  spirits  were  stimu- 
lated up  to  a  new  life  by  the  vision  of  the  short- 
cake. Poor  child  !  He  slipped  heavily  into  the 
house.  There  was  his  uncle  Richard  with  very 
fat  and  bearded  fingers  clasped  across  a  frightful 
expanse  of  abdomen,  as  if  to  restrain  its  devour- 
ing tendencies  till  the  right  moment.  There  were 
also  aunts  Jane  and  Ann,  both  fat,  and  both, 
apparently,  in  a  disastrous  state  of  good  health. 
In  the  terrible  state  of  fear  he  was  in.  Tommy 
would  have  felt  much  more  comfortable,  we  have 
no  doubt,  in  the  embrace  of  a  boa-constrictor, 
rather  than  under  the  caresses  of  his  relatives. 
He  tried  to  get  a  word  to  his  mother ;  but  she 
was  too  busy,  and  too  flustered  over  the  appearance 
of  her  unexpected  company,  to  notice  Tommy. 
Dinner  was  speedily  announced  ;  and  the  family 
sat  down,  leaving  the  children  to  speculate  on 
futurity  in  the  wood-shed. 


lyo  SUMMER    IN    DANBURY. 

It  was  a  mournful  group.  Tommy  sat  down  on 
the  saw-buck  ;  Georgy  climbed  upon  the  shaving- 
barrel  ;  while  Toady  crouched  on  the  step  close  to 
the  door  leading  to  the  kitchen,  where  the  dinner 
was  going  on.  The  children  were  directed  to  play 
in  the  yard  ;  but  there  was  no  desire  for  sport  with 
them.  Between  three  relatives  from  the  country 
and  one  shortcake  there  was  not  space  to  crowd 
the  least  particle  of  levity,  even  with  the  aid  of  the 
sharpest  knife.  They  wanted  to  get  as  close  as 
they  possibly  could  to  the  noise  of  the  fray, 
although  every  sound  went  to  their  hearts  with  a 
great  shock. 

"  Have  they  started  it  yet.  Toady  ? "  whispered 
Tommy  anxiously. 

Toady  cautiously  raised  himself  to  his  feet,  crept 
up  to  the  sill,  and,  standing  on  the  extreme  point 
of  his  very  little  toes,  was  able,  through  the  crack 
in  the  door,  to  take  in  a  view  of  the  table. 

"  No,"  he  whispered  after  an  instant  delay,  and 
sank  back  again  to  his  place.  A  moment  later, 
Tommy  again  asked  if  they  had  started  it ;  and 
again  Toady  mounted  cautiously  up  to  his  post. 
The  instant  he  reached  the  point  of  survey,  he  fell 
back  so  suddenly  as  to  startle  his  waiting  brothers. 

"  They've  gone  at  it !  "  he  gasped,  his  eyes  fairly 
protruding  in  the  excitement  he  labored  under. 

"  Oh,  dear !  "  sighed  Tommy,  dropping  his  head. 

"  Gosh  !  "  ejaculated  Georgy  under   his   breath  ; 


TOMMY    MIGGSS    VISION.  171 

while  an  expression  of  sickening  fear  crept  over 
his  face. 

For  a  full  moment  there  was  a  silence  in  the 
wood-shed.  Then  Georgy  slid  down  from  his 
barrel,  and  crept  up  to  the  door,  and  peered 
through  to  the  table.  There  was  a  look  of  faint 
expectation  on  the  face  he  presented  to  the  crack  ; 
but  it  was  dimmed  somewhat  when  he  turned  it 
about  to  his  brothers. 

"  I  can't  see  the  plate,"  he  said  dejectedly,  shak- 
ing his  head  ;  "  but  they're  all  a-eatin'.  It's  darned 
mean,  an'  I  don't  care  who  knows  it ! "  he  added  in 
desperation,  as  he  dropped  moodily  on  the  splitting- 
block. 

"  'Sh  !  "  said  Tommy  faintly. 

"  To  come  in  like  that !  "  pursued  Georgy,  apostro- 
phizing the  great  grievance  from  its  harshest  aspect. 
"  I  s'pose  they  smelt  that  cake  all  the  way,  and  hain't 
had  none  themselves  for  a  year,  an'  so  come  in  to 
take  ours."  And  Georgy  smiled  with  a  bitterness 
that  was  painful  in  one  so  young. 

"  I  wish  it  would  choke  'em  !  "  he  shortly  added. 

Tommy  tried  to  give  his  brother  a  reproachful 
look,  but  did  not  succeed  well  ;  while  the  softening 
about  the  corners  of  Toady's  mouth  might  have  led 
a  hasty  observer  to  believe  that  he  shared  in  the 
wild  desire. 

The  hush  that  followed  was  broken  by  their 
mother's  voice :  — 


172  SUMMER     IN     DANBURY. 

"  Do  have  that  other  piece,  Richard.  I  know  you 
like  it." 

The  emphasized  word  no  sooner  struck  the  ears 
of  the  anxious  waiters  in  the  shed  than  they  invol- 
untarily clutched  hold  of  their  resting-places  for 
support  ;  while  the  expression  of  horror  which 
blanched  their  faces  was  pitiful  to  behold. 

"  I  don't  care  if  I  do,  Susan,  seeing  you're  so 
free,"  came  the  heavy  voice  of  uncle  Richard. 

"  Oh ! "  came  from  Tommy's  white  lips  like  a 
shot ;  and  then  he  sank  back  on  the  saw-horse, 
and  dropped  the  white  face  on  his  knees. 

Little  Toady  abruptly  rolled  off  the  step  on  to 
the  ground,  too  full  of  grief  to  make  a  sound ; 
while  the  aggressive  George,  shutting  his  teeth 
tight  together,  marched  around  the  shed,  shaking 
his  clinched  fists  in  a  way  that  implied  the  most 
dreadful  doom  to  the  unsuspecting  relatives  from 
the  country. 

It  was  when  Tommy  was  back  again  in  school, 
bending  the  little  white  face  over  his  book,  and 
striving  with  all  his  might  to  still  the  pain  in  his 
heart,  that  the  boy  in  the  seat  whispered,  — 

"  How's  the  cake,  Tommy .-'  " 

But  there  was  no  answer. 

"  Was  it  an  old  booster  ?  "  asked  the  boy,  trying 
to  compress  his  enthusiastic  expectations  into  the 
most  cautious  whisper. 

There  was  a  short,  sharp  sob  from  the  white  lips. 


ABOUT    A    FLY.  173 


which  startled  the  boy  in  the  next  seat,  and  attracted 
the  attention  of  the  teacher  ;  while  the  little  head 
went  down  on  the  book,  and  two  little  threadbare 
sleeves  coiled  around  it. 

"  What  is  it.  Tommy  ?  "  said  the  teacher,  coming 
up. 

But  Tommy  was  as  noble  as  he  had  been  san- 
guine. He  would  not  say  that  the  other  boy  had 
been  teasing  him :  he  simply  drew  the  patched 
little  sleeves  tighter  about  his  head,  and  gave  way 
to  a  flood  of  agonizing  tears.  She  was  a  sympa- 
thetic woman  as  well  as  a  good  teacher.  She  laid 
her  hand  softly  on  his  hair,  and  tenderly  said,  — 

"  Poor  Tommy  !" 

"  And  so  we,  without  the  blessed  privilege  of 
stroking  the  thin  white  hair,  can  say  too,  — 

"  Poor  Tommy  !  " 


ABOUT    A    FLY. 

What  becomes  of  the  flies  .''  They  go  some- 
where. They  are  gone  all  winter,  and  come  back 
again  in  the  summer,  all  grown,  and  ready  for  busi- 
ness. Scientific  men  should  solve  this  problem. 
Every  man,  woman,  and  child  is  interested  in  know- 
ing where  flies  go,  so  as  to  be  able  to  avoid  going 
there  too.  Flies  have  a  system  which  is  governed 
by  the  hours.  In  the  morning  they  find  their  food  ; 
and  until   noon  they  will  not  attend  to  any  thing 


I7i  SUMMER    IN    DANUURY. 

else.  But  in  the  afternoon  they  are  ready  for  fun. 
In  the  morning,  a  human  being  appears  to  a  fly  in 
the  light  of  a  lunch-countcr.  It  sweeps  down  on 
him,  prowls  over  him,  picking  up  what  it  can  find  ; 
but,  if  persistently  interrupted,  it  will  leave  for  good, 
and,  taking  position  near  by,  give  him  a  look,  equiv- 
alent to  saying,  "  Hang  a  hog,  anyway  !  "  and  then 
put  off  for  another  field.  A  fly,  if  it  would  keep 
out  of  a  pauper's  grave,  has  no  time  to  fool  away 
during  business-hours.  In  the  afternoon  it  has 
leisure.  In  the  afternoon  you  may  brush  away  a 
fly  a  thousand  times ;  but  it  will  come  back  again. 
And,  the  more  you  knock  at  it,  the  more  heartily  it 
enjoys  the  performance.  It  is  on  the  same  prin- 
ciple a  miller  flutters  about  a  flame,  or  a  swallow 
skims  around  a  boy  who  is  trying  to  spHt  its  head 
open  with  a  lath.  There  are  several  ways  of  get- 
ting rid  of  flies  ;  but  knocking  at  them  is  not  one 
of  them.  That  only  stimulates  them  to  greater 
exertions  both  in  your  behalf  as  well  as  their  own : 
for  a  fly  cannot  reason  as  you  can  ;  and  your  mad- 
dening flourishes  are  understood  by  it  to  be  so 
many  invitations  to  hop  in,  and  have  fun.  There 
is  nothing  small  or  mean  about  a  fly.  Flies  are 
not  seen  on  moving  trains  or  ocean  steamers,  and 
rarely  on  the  third  floor  of  a  building.  But  the 
most  popular  way  to  get  rid  of  flies  is  to  hire  a 
livery  team,  and  drive  with  all  speed  across  the  tops 
of  mountains.     A  very  few  of  the  millions  of  flies 


A    GRTEYOUS    MISTAKE.  1 75 

which,  infest  our  homes  never  go  away  for  the  wi  n 
ter.  After  the  winter  has  settled  down  to  work, 
they  retire  to  an  upper  corner,  and  with  one  eye 
held  shut  by  a  leg,  and  the  other  wide  open,  thc}> 
lie  on  their  backs,  and  look  up  in  your  face  for  days 
at  a  time. 


A     GRIEVOUS     MISTAKE. 

A  FEW  days  ago,  a  young  man  who  had  been 
sick  but  a  week  died.  His  widow  sent  word  of  the 
mournful  event  to  her  brother,  who  was  at  work 
harvesting  for  a  farmer  near  Croton  Falls,  N.Y. 
When  he  got  the  intelligence,  he  made  haste  to 
Danbury,  some  thirty  miles ;  but,  owing  to  delay  of 
several  kinds,  did  not  reach  here  until  the  friends 
got  back  from  the  burial.  The  suddenness  of  the 
death,  and  the  fact  that  the  man  whom  he  had 
seen  in  health  but  three  weeks  before  was  dead 
and  buried,  was  a  severe  shock  to  him.  He  spoke 
about  it  several  times  in  a  dazed  sort  of  a  way,  and 
would  break  off,  in  inquiring  the  particulars  of  the 
last  sickness,  to  comment  upon  the  dreadful  sud- 
denness of  the  affair. 

"And  now  he  is  buried,"  he  added  at  the  close 
of  the  bereaved  women's  recital,  "and  we  shall 
never  see  him  again.  It  don't  seem  possible  that 
George  is  gone.  Don't  cry,  Maria.  It's  hard  on 
you ;  but  it  can't  be  helped.     You  did  every  thing 


176  SUMMER     IN     DANBURY. 

you  could  to  prevent  it,  you  know."  He  stopped 
here,  and  nervously  worked  his  fingers,  which  were 
clasped  together  over  his  knees.  After  a  moment 
he  added,  "  It  was  just  three  weeks  ago  last  night 
that  he  came  in  with  that  new  black  suit.  I  re- 
member his  standing  up  there  by  the  chair,"  indi- 
cating the  spot  with  his  eyes,  while  his  hands  still 
continued  to  play  nervously  together,  "  with  'em  on  ; 
and  how  they  fitted  him!  I  never  see  George  look 
so  well  in  all  my  life  as  he  did  that  night ;  and  I 
was  speaking  to  mother  about  it  the  next  day. 
And  now  he  is  dead  and  buried.  I  can't  make  it 
seem  possible.     I  "  — 

"  We  buried  him  in  that  suit  of  clothes,"  said 
..lie,  interrupting,  "and"  — 

•'  What ! " 

They  were  both  on  their  feet  now.  He  stood 
there  with  his  hands  separated  and  clinched,  a 
ghastly  pallor  on  his  face,  and  his  eyes  fairly  start- 
ing from  their  sockets.  Brought  to  her  feet  by 
the  strength  and  suddenness  of  his  exclamation, 
she  stood  before  him  in  pallid  wonder,  with  the 
quiver  of  a  nameless  fear  on  her  lips. 

"  Do  you  mean  ter  say,"  he  gasped,  "  that  you 
chucked  a  new  suit  of  clothes  under  ground  like 
that  ? " 

"  Tom ! "  she  cried,  holding  up  both  hands  in  a 
horroi  of  protest. 

"  Don't  Tom  me ! "  he  screamed  with  a  bitterness 


A    GRIEVOUS    MISTAKE.  177 

indescribable.  "  Don't  speak  to  me  at  all,  you 
witless  woman  !  I  can't  bear  with  you !  I  hate  you  ! 
A  nice  sister  j^z^  are  !  "  It  was  fearful,  the  depth  of 
irony  in  this  expression.  "  You  deserve  a  brother, 
you  do !  Oh,  yes!  An'  him  and  me  the  same  size 
too."  He  clinched  his  hands  tighter  than  before, 
and  strode  up  and  down  the  room.  "  I  wonder 
what  keeps  me  from  sinkin'  right  through  this 
floor,"  he  passionately  added.  "  To  grow  up  with 
a  sister  like  that,  and  she  a-chuckin  good  clothes 
into  the  ground,  with  a  brother  that  ain't  hardly  a 
decent  rag  to  his  back  !  Forty  dollars'  worth  of 
clothes  for  worms  to  cavort  around  in  !  " 

And,  with  a  groan  of  despair,  he  sank  heavily 
into  a  seat. 

"  Tom  !  "  gasped  the  unhappy  woman  in  a  voice 
of  horror,  "  are  you  crazy  .-' " 

"  Crazy  !  "  he  shrilly  repeated.  "  If  I  ain't  crazy, 
is  it  your  fault,  you  miserable  sister  !  Crazy!  It's 
enough  to  make  the  hosts  of  heaven  crazy  to  see 
forty  dollars'  worth  of  clothes  chucked  to  ten  cents' 
worth  of  worms." 

She  buried  her  white  face  in  her  hands,  and 
sobbed  outright  for  shame  and  agony. 

"  There's  no  use  crying  over  spilt  milk,"  he 
gloomily  observed.  "  You've  done  it,  and  that's 
an  end  of  it,  and  can  now  have  the  consolation  of 
knowin'  that  you've  injured  an  own  brother.  An- 
other time  I  guess  you'll  be  a  little  more  careful 
how  you  fire  a  new  suit  of  clothes  into  the  ground." 


178  SUMMER     IN     DANBURY. 

And,  with  this  prophecy,  he  morosely  strode  out 
of  the  house. 


MRS.    COBLEIGH    CALLS    HER    DOG. 

A  cow  got  into  Cobleigh's  yard  Friday  morning, 
and  stepped  around  among  a  dozen  heads  of  choice 
late  cabbages  which  that  gentleman  had  cultivated 
with  considerable  care  and  pride.  Mr.  Cobleigh 
was  not  at  home;  but  Mrs.  Cobleigh  saw  the  animal, 
and  became  very  much  excited  over  its  presence. 
It  was  desirable  to  get  it  off  the  premises  as  speed- 
ily as  possible ;  but  Mrs.  Cobleigh  was  painfully 
limited  as  to  facilities.  She  was  afraid  of  a  cow. 
and  did  not  dare  venture  close  enough  to  it  to  make 
a  clothes-pole  serviceable.  She  had  heard  that  a 
dog  was  an  efficient  agent  in  the  dispersion  of  a 
cow  ;  but  there  was  not  a  dog  about.  But  a  bright 
thought  struck  the  lady.  She  would  pretend  there 
was  a  dog  just  back  of  the  house,  waiting  to  rush 
with  terrific  ferocity  upon  the  marauding  beast 
So  Mrs.  Cobleigh  set  to  work,  leading  off  with 
an  earnest  whistle,  with  the  following  flattering 
result :  — 

"  Fvew-w-w,  fvew-w-w-w  —  oh,  my !  Here,  Tiger, 
here !  Fvew-w-w,  fv  —  what  shall  I  do }  Here, 
Ponto  !  here,  Carlo  !  Fvew-w-w-z-s  —  oh,  my  gra- 
cious !      Fvew-w-w  —  bite  him.  Jack  !      Bite  him. 


MRS.     COBLEIGH     CALLS     HER     DOG.  179 

Bull !  Fvew-vv-w-w  —  oh,  dear  !  oh,  clear  !  Go  way, 
you  nasty  thing !     Scat,  I  say  !  " 

Mrs.  Cobleigh  was  terribly  excited.  The  cow 
looked  up,  and  smiled. 

"  Go  away,  you  hateful  object !  "  she  screamed, 
"  or  I'll  have  you  torn  to  pieces.  —  Here,  Gyp,  seize 
him!  Fvew  —  fvew  —  fvew!  Bite  him,  Ned  !  Sick 
him,  Pete  !  Fvew  —  fvew-w-w-z-z-s  !  Oh,  gracious 
goodness ! "  And  the  exhausted  woman  sank 
down  on  the  door-stone,  her  face  the  very  essence 
of  despair  ;  while  the  exertion  of  her  vocal  organs 
in  producing  the  whistle  had  covered  her  chin 
with  spray.  During  the  progress  of  these  tactics, 
seven  dogs  had  gathered  in  the  vicinity,  and  were 
now  staring  through  the  fence  at  Mrs.  Cobleigh 
with  all-absorbing  interest.  But  the  woman,  un- 
conscious of  their  vicinity,  continued  to  breathe 
heavily,  and  to  look  at  the  cow  ;  while  that  animal 
leisurely  chewed  on  the  cabbages,  and  pensively 
took  in  the  surroundings. 


AFTER    THE     CELEBRATION. 

The  5th  of  July  is  so  closely  associated  with  the 
4th  as  to  be  a  part  of  it.  We  don't  care  to  think 
of  the  5th  on  the  4th  ;  but  on  the  5th  we  wish  the 
4th  hadn't  been  quite  so  much  to  us  as  it  was. 
The  American  mouth  is  equally  extended  on  both 


l8o  SUMMER     IN     DANBURY. 

days,  —  shouting  over  the  one,  and  yawning  on  the 
other.  The  family  which  celebrates  awakes  in  a 
cloud  of  depression.  The  threads  which  were  pre- 
cipitately dropped  on  the  3d,  and  fearfully  entan- 
gled on  the  4th,  must  be  taken  up  again  on  the 
5th,  and  brought  out  of  the  snarl,  and  carried  for- 
ward as  before.  If  we  could  bear  this  in  mind  at 
the  first,  we  should  save  much  trouble  and  annoy- 
ance. The  re-action  from  the  excesses  of  the  day 
we  celebrate  depresses  us  ;  and  then  to  have  to  take 
up  duties  which  were  too  hastily  and  gladly  put  off 
appears  to  be  a  very  good  substitute  for  the  feather 
which  broke  the  camel's  back.  In  the  realization 
of  an  anticipation,  we  rest  content  to  let  the  future 
take  care  of  itself. 

"  That's  all  right ;  I'll  attend  to  it  to-morrow;" 
or,  "  Never  mind,  there'll  be  plenty  of  time  to  do 
it  to-morrow,"  —  are  household  words  on  a  4th 
of  July.  The  5th  of  July  is  a  most  handy  waste- 
basket.  Every  hour,  from  the  eve  to  the  close  of 
the  "  glorious  anniversary,"  we  are  pitching  things 
into  it ;  and  the  next  day,  with  tired  senses  and 
muscles,  we  bend  over  the  mass,  and  sort  them  out 
again.  It  is  a  dreary  task  ;  but  it  shall  never  hap- 
pen again  —  shall  it  ?  We  drop  duties  like  hot 
shot  ;  we  sweep  aside  unperformed  cares  as  so  many 
cobwebs :  every  thing  is  thrown  recklessly  and 
carelessly  down,  while  we  plunge  into  the  excite- 
ment of  the  event.     There'll  be  plenty  of  time  to- 


AFTER    THE    CELEBRATION, 


morrow  to  attend  to  it  all  :  we  are  too  excited  to 
do  any  thing  now.  If  the  whole  world  could  be 
swept  into  eternity  as  soon  as  we  should  finish  our 
celebration,  what  a  grand  day  the  4th  of  July 
would  be  !  We  never  shall  have  a  perfect  4th  until 
the  5th  is  exterminated.  What  a  hollow  mockery 
are  the  burned  fire-crackers,  and  empty  Roman 
candles,  and  charred  pin-wheels,  and  broken  rocket- 
sticks,  the  next  day  !  How  weak  and  insignificant 
look  the  bunting,  and  greens,  and  other  decora- 
tions !  How  insipid  are  the  mottoes  which  excited 
us  the  day  before  !  How  oppressive  are  the  things 
to  be  put  to  rights,  the  extra  dishes  to  be  washed, 
the  debris  to  be  removed  }  How  repulsive  appear 
the  every-day  clothes  which  w^ere  thrown  here,  and 
kicked  there,  on  the  morning  of  the  4th,  as  if  they 
were  never  to  be  donned  again  !  There  is  a  bitter- 
ness of  spirit  as  we  crawl  back  into  them,  which 
we  cannot  entirely  conceal. 

The  family  temper  is  fully  alive  on  the  5th. 
There  is  but  little  in  the  house  for  breakfast,  and 
scarcely  any  disposition  on  the  part  of  the  woman 
to  prepare  what  there  is.  We  all  get  out  of  bed 
on  the  wrong  side,  and  are  prone  to  think  that  our 
display  of  patriotism  the  day  before  amply  compen- 
sates for  all  lack  of  charity  now. 

There  never  was  such  a  hot,  close,  wretched  day 
as  this  5th  of  July.  We  judge  it  from  the  stand- 
point of   a  depressed  system.     The  stomach  has 


l82  SUMMER     IN     DANBURY. 

been  bombarded  all  the  day  before  by  ice-cream 
and  lemonade,  and  recoils  now  from  food,  and  in 
the  recoil  appears  to  have  kicked  us  in  the  roof  of 
the  mouth  with  a  pair  of  decayed  overshoes. 

"  Thank  Heaven,  4th  of  July  comes  but  once  a 
year  ! "  is  the  spontaneous  outburst  from  a  million 
of  hearth-stones  on  the  morning  of  the  5th. 


COMING  OUT  OF  THE  SPREE. 

There  was  one  man  who  went  to  sleep  with 
the  4th  of  July  in  his  arms,  under  the  impression 
that  it  was  an  angel  from  heaven ;  and  awoke  the 
next  morning  to  find  he  was  being  strangled  by  a 
demon.  He  was  not  what  is  called  a  drinking  man  ; 
but  he  loved  the  glass  from  convivial  motives.  He 
was  out  all  day  on  the  4th,  being  one  of  the  fire- 
men. He  didn't  intend  to  drink  much,  but  just 
enough  to  feel  good.  What  he  despised  above 
ground  was  to  get  drunk  himself  while  his  cooler 
friends  kept  comparatively  sober.  He  was  going 
to  look  out  for  this  to-day,  and  guard  against  in- 
jurious excesses.  This  he  determined  before  he 
had  taken  any  thing.  With  the  first  glass  down,  a 
little  dissipation  lost  its  harsh  aspect.  Besides, 
those  with  him  appeared  to  think  just  as  he  did. 
They  were  not  the  cold-blooded  sort  of  folks,  but 


COMING    OUT    OF    THE    SPREE.  183 

believed  in  having  a  good  time  without  any  refer- 
ence to  the  result.  They  weren't  the  sort  that 
would  get  him  drunk,  and  then  make  fun  of  it  the 
next  day.  Their  freedom  encouraged  him  to  pro- 
ceed. As  the  day  progressed,  he  grew  less  guarded, 
and  more  communicative.  He  met  and  got  ac- 
quainted with  a  number  of  brother-firemen  visiting 
town,  and  received  each  fresh  acquaintance  with  a 
heartiness  that  must  have  been  eminently  gratify- 
ing. His  heart  expanded  like  debt  as  the  hours 
rolled  on.  He  wanted  to  treat  everybody.  More 
than  that,  he  was  delighted  with  everybody,  and 
was  particular  that  everybody  should  drink.  He 
didn't  believe  in  doing  these  hings  on  a  half-shell ; 
and  kindly  continued  to  assure  everybody  in  the 
company  of  the  fact,  although  it  was  evident  that 
talking  was  becoming  painfully  difBcult  to  him. 
He  grew  more  and  more  affectionate  and  more  and 
more  demonstrative  with  that  excellent  trait  as  the 
night  drew  near.  Once  in  a  while  he  came  across 
one  who  was  a  veteran  in  the  art  of  drinking,  and 
who  could  not  be  beguiled  into  promiscuous  inun- 
dation of  self  and  sweet  confidences.  These  stony 
faces  tended  to  make  him  uneasy,  and  finally  to  fill 
him  with  pain.  After  a  while,  the  light  of  intelli- 
gence began  to  flicker  in  its  socket ;  and,  after  a  few 
fitful  flashes,  the  flame  went  out  together. 

It  was  the  morning  of  the  5th  when  he  awoke, 
and  quite  early  in  the  morning  at  that ;  for  the  in- 


184  SUMMER     IN     DANBURY. 

experienced  drunkard  is  a  light  sleeper.  Ther^ 
was  a  confused  expression  on  his  mind,  as  if  the 
broad  daylight  which  struck  his  eyes  had  also  sud- 
denly pierced  to  his  brain  ;  but  the  awful  fact  that 
he  was  awake,  and  not  dreaming,  came  upon  him 
with  terrific,  flattening  force.  This  was  his  own 
room.  How  came  he  here  .-'  He  had  no  memory 
of  reaching  it  himself.  Was  he  brought  here  .-• 
Sickening  thought !  Who  brought  him  .''  Who  has 
seen  him  }  Any  of  the  neighbors  ?  Any  of  his 
friends .-'  What  did  he  do .-'  What  awful  silliness 
was  he  guilty  of  during  that  carousal  .''  He  would 
give  the  world  to  know  every  circumstance  of  his 
conduct  during  that  fearful  day,  and  yet  recoils  in 
horror  from  the  thought.  His  head  throbs,  his 
flesh  is  feverish,  his  tongue  swollen,  and  his  joints 
ache.  He  tries  his  best  to  recall  every  detail  of 
yesterday's  debauch.  If  he  can  only  remember 
every  thing  he  has  done,  he  is  comparatively  safe 
from  the  innuendoes  of  those  who  saw  him,  as  he 
can  prepare  for  every  attack.  But  he  can  make 
no  satisfactory  survey  of  the  performance.  He  re- 
members how  he  started  off;  but  things  grow  more 
and  more  indistinct  in  consecutive  occurrence ; 
while  here  and  there  flash  out  incidents  which 
cause  his  heart  to  sink  within  him,  and  his  face  to 
burn  with  shame,  —  sentiments  that  he  expressed, 
promises  that  he  gave,  invitations  that  he  extended, 
exhibitions    of  himself    made  before  sober  people; 


COMING    OUT    OF    THE    SPREE.  185 

while  the  darkness  of  his  mind  is  peopled  with  a 
score  of  horrid  absurdities  whose  nature  he  cannot 
fathom,  but  which  he  is  confident  some  one  saw 
and  remembers.  He  tries  to  hope  for  the  best,  and 
is  momentarily  buoyed  up,  only  to  be  cast  down 
farther  than  before.  Then  he  curses  the  drink 
with  penitential  earnestness,  and  solemnly  swears 
he  will  never  touch  another  drop.  There  is  com- 
fort in  this  resolution  ;  but  he  no  sooner  grasps  it 
than  it  is  suddenly  wrenched  away  from  him  in  an 
overpowering  flood  of  recollections  of  his  folly. 
Again  he  becomes  desperate,  and  determines  to 
brave  it  out,  and  to  show  that  the  debauch  is  not  a 
new  thing  to  him  by  going  on  another  in  the  same 
company.  But  remorse  comes  in,  and  kicks  this 
prop  from  under  him  ;  and  he  rolls  over,  and  groans 
in  the  agony  of  his  despair.  Why  was  he  such  an 
ass  ?  Why  was  he  such  an  idiot  ?  Would  that  he 
had  died  before  he  saw  the  men  whom  yesterday 
he  hugged,  whom  at  no  other  time  would  he  have 
noticed,  and  whom  now  he  loathes  with  all  the 
strength  of  his  being !  What  a  head,  what  a 
mouth,  what  a  mind,  that  man  carries  with  him  all 
day  of  the  5th  of  July  !  He  shrinks  from  going 
out  on  the  street  ;  and  yet  he  dare  not  stay  in  all 
day,  lest  those  who  were  with  him  will  think  that 
he  is  completely  floored.  And  so  he  goes  out 
among  his  fellow-men,  shrinking  from  their  gaze, 
avoiding  those  places  which  he  remembers  visiting, 


l86  SUMMER    IN     DANBURY. 

and  wondering  with  exquisite  agony  if  those  he 
passes  were  distinguished  by  his  presence,  and 
what  phase  of  his  awful  idiocy  he  exhibited  there. 
At  every  sound  and  voice  he  starts,  expecting 
every  moment  to  meet  or  be  overtaken  by  some 
one  who  witnessed  his  shame  and  is  only  too  glad 
to  recall  the  particulars  to  his  attention.  He  is 
settled  in  no  purpose  but  one  ;  and  that  is,  to  shut 
square  off  on  drinking.  Never  again  will  another 
drop  of  liquor  pass  his  lips,  never,  —  never  again. 
And  let  no  man  pull  down  his  vest. 


A     PREMATURE    CELEBRATION. 

The  firemen  had  a  parade  Saturday.  It  was  a 
fine  affair ;  but  the  absence  of  Mr.  O'Clarence  was 
deeply  felt,  not  only  by  the  department,  but  by 
the  public.  His  long  and  faithful  services  at  the 
business-meetings  and  festivals,  and  his  splendid 
bearing  on  parade,  have  given  Mr.  O'Clarence  an 
enviable  position  in  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen. 
We  are  sorry  he  was  not  present  Saturday  ;  but 
an  unlooked-for  and  very  painful  accident  deprived 
him  and  us  of  a  great  pleasure.  The  night  which 
preceded  the  last  anniversary  of  our  national  inde- 
pendence, he  took  home  twenty-five  dollars'  worth 
of  fireworks  for  a  splurge  on  the  next  night.  He 
calculated  he  had  glory  enough  in  that  package  to 


A    PREMATURE    CELEBRATION.  187 


fill  with  gratitude  and  admiration  every  tax-payer 
on  North  Street  ;  and  his  wife,  after  carefully 
examining  the  lot,  was  equally  confident  that  the 
neighbors  would  see  something  that  would  "  make 
their  eyes  bung  out,"  as  she  pensively  expressed  it. 
The  next  morning,  O'CIarence  took  out  the  bundle 
to  look  it  over  again,  and  feed  on  the  anticipation. 
There  were  these  cannon-crackers,  —  several  packs, 
—  and  Roman  candles,  and  blue-fire,  and  pin- 
wheels,  and  rockets,  and  the  like  ;  a  very  credita- 
ble assortment  for  any  family.  Mr.  Wickford's 
boy,  from  the  next  house,  was  in,  and  sat  on  the 
floor,  holding  a  piece  of  lighted  punk  in  his  hand, 
and  had  both  his  eyes  and  mouth  wide  open,  en- 
joying the  sight.  O'CIarence  was  sitting  on  bis 
haunches,  holding  a  pin-wheel  in  his  hand,  and 
explaining  to  Mrs.  O'CIarence  how  cheaply  they 
could  be  made  in  China,  and  how  superior  in 
ingenuity  and  industry  were  the  Chinese  to  all 
other  races.  None  of  them  know  how  it  happened  ; 
but  O'CIarence  remembers  that  there  were  two 
open  packs  of  cannon-crackers  just  under  him, 
and  thinks  Wickford's  boy  must  have  in  some  way 
dropped  the  punk  in  among  them,  and,  in  the 
general  interest,  forgotten  that  it  was  afire.  At 
any  rate,  there  was  a  sudden  siss  right  under  Mr. 
O'CIarence,  followed  in  the  next  instant  by  a  tor- 
nado of  sounds  and  sparks ;  and  that  gentleman  at 
once  shot  toward  the  ceiling;  in  a  blaze  of  various- 


l88  SUMMER    IN     DANBURY. 

colored  lights,  while  the  air  became  thick  with 
sparks,  blue-lights,  blazing  balls,  industrious  pin- 
wheels,  insane  sky-rockets,  and  screeching  crackers. 
Mrs.  O'Clarence  fell  over  a  chair  that  cost  eight 
dollars  when  new,  and  struck  the  back  of  her  head 
against  the  stove-hearth  with  a  violence  that  added 
materially  to  the  display  of  fireworks  already  going 
on.  Wickford's  boy  was  struck  in  the  mouth  with 
a  sky-rocket,  and  had  two-thirds  of  his  hair  taken 
off  by  a  Roman  candle,  and  was  knocked  through 
a  doorway  by  a  piece  of  ordnance  just  introduced 
this  season,  and  which  will  undoubtedly  become 
popular  when  understood  better.  He  was  after- 
ward fished  out  of  a  rose-bush,  and  taken  home  in 
a  table-cloth.  O'Clarence  remained  during  the 
entire  exhibition,  looking  at  it  from  various  posi- 
tions ;  and,  when  it  was  over  with,  he  was  put  in  a 
sheet  by  the  neighbors,  and  saturated  with  oil,  and 
then  covered  with  molasses  and  flour.  We  learn 
that  new  skin  is  already  forming  on  parts  of  him  ; 
and,  if  no  unfavorable  symptoms  set  in,  he  will  be 
out  again  in  a  fortnight,  although  it  is  not  likely 
he  will  mingle  much  in  society  until  his  hair  and 
eyebrows  commence  to  grow.  He  thinks  Wick- 
ford's boy  is  dead  ;  and  they  dare  not  tell  him  to 
the  contrary,  until  he  gets  stronger.  Singularly 
enough,  Mrs.  O'Clarence  escaped  injury  by  burns: 
but  the  blow  on  her  head  was  so  severe,  that  she 
cannot  bear  to  have  her  back-hair  drawn   up   as 


MR.     COLLINS'S     CROQUET    SET.  189 

high  as  it  was  before  ;  and  missing  her  church- 
privileges  is  a  sore  trial  to  her. 


MR.     COLLINS'S     CROQUET     SET. 

Croquet,  that  eminently  fascinating  game,  was 
introduced  on  the  premises  of  the  Collinses  Friday. 
In  the  afternoon.  Podge's  boy  brought  up  the  set ; 
and,  just  before  tea,  Mrs.  Collins  arranged  the 
wickets.  Collins  had  learned  to  play  when  visiting 
in  Glovershire  last  summer,  and  Mrs.  Collins  ac- 
quired an  indifferent  knowledge  of  the  game  from 
two  elderly  maiden  sisters  on  Paxton  Street ;  and 
so,  on  that  delicious  Friday  afternoon,  they  took 
out  the  mallets  and  balls,  and  commenced  the 
game. 

"  Now,  Emmeline,"  playfully  observed  Mr.  Col- 
lins, "don't  you  begin  cheating  at  the  start.  If 
you  do,  the  game  will  be  prostituted  to  mere  gam- 
bhng,  an'  we'll  injure  our  moral  natures  in  trying 
to  build  up  our  physical," 

"  People  who  are  so  ready  to  charge  against 
others  need  close  watching  themselves,  young 
man,"  said  she  in  the  same  spirit ;  "  and  I  mean  to 
keep  a  sharp  eye  on  you." 

Then   they  both  laughed. 

"  But  it  will  be  a  good  thing  for  you,  Emmeline," 
he   said,  with  a  tinge  of  tenderness  in   his  voice. 


rgo  SUMMER    IN     DANBURY. 

"You  are  kept  cooped  up  in  the  house  so,  that  you 
hardly  get  a  breath  of  fresh  air.  This  will  give 
you  exercise,  and  keep  you  out  doors  too." 

"  You  are  always  thinking  of  me,"  said  she  as 
her  eyes  grew  moist.  "  You  need  the  out-door  air 
as  much  as  I  do  ;  but  you  are  too  unselfish  to  think 
of  yourself." 

And,  thus  exchanging  sentiments  which  did 
credit  to  both  their  hearts,  the  game  progressed. 

After  passing  through  the  centre  wicket,  Mr. 
Collins  used  her  ball  to  help  himself  through  the 
other  wickets  to  the  upper  stake.  Then  he  left 
her  near  the  first  wicket,  and  struck  for  the  stake, 
which,  being  about  eight  inches  distant,  made 
him  over-confident.  The  ball  missed  by  about  an 
eighth  of  an  inch. 

"  I  declare  !  "  he  exclaimed  in  vexation. 

Then  she,  having  watched  his  rapid  progress 
with  a  clouded  face,  now  struck  for  him,  and  hit 
him ;  and  a  minute  later  his  ball  was  spinning 
through  the  grass  to  the  other  end  of  the  ground. 
She  was  now  in  position  for  her  wicket,  and  passed 
through  it  and  the  others  to  the  stake,  but  missed 
it.  Then  he  came  up  by  a  well-directed  blow  to 
within  two  inches  of  the  stake.  But  she  went 
for  him  again ;  and,  when  she  got  through,  she 
was  three  wickets  beyond  the  stake,  and  his  ball 
was  at  the  other  end  of  the  ground  again,  and 
his  brow  was  finely  corrugated.     He  stepped  nerv- 


MR.     COLLINS  S    CROqUET    SET.  IQI 

ously  toward  it.  It  was  quite  evident  that  he  was 
not  unruffled.  When  his  turn  came  again,  he 
drove  back  to  the  stake,  but  struck  a  wicket,  and 
rebounded  so  close  to  her,  that  she  easily  hit  him, 
and  again  introduced  him  through  wickets  he  was 
not  for,  and  then  sent  him  flying  again.  Her 
success  caused  her  to  laugh,  and  he  heard  it. 

"  You  think  you  are  pretty  smart ;  but  I'll  get 
even  with  you,"  he  said,  without  smiling. 

"You'll  have  to  play  better  than  you  have  done," 
she  pertinently  suggested. 

"  I  think  I  know  as  much  about  croquet  as  you 
do,"  he  said,  still  with  a  straight  face. 

"  You  don't  play  as  if  you  did,"  she  retorted. 

"  If  you'd  had  any  fairness  about  you,  you'd  let 
me  had  that  stroke  over  when  I  was  up  to  the 
stake.  You  knew  I  slipped,  as  well  as  I  did,"  he 
said,  growing  red  in  the  face. 

"  No,  I  didn't  know  any  thing  about  it,"  she 
replied,  taking  on  a  little  cobr. 

"  I  say  you  did." 

"  And  I  say  I  didn't.  But,  if  you  are  going  to 
play  this  game,  why  don't  you  go  ahead  ?  " 

"  1 11  play  when  I  get  ready,"  he  answered,  turn- 
ing white  about  the  mouth. 

"  If  you  ain't  going  to  play,  you'd  better  go  into 
the  house  and  shut  up,"  she  suggested,  raising  her 
voice. 

"  Don't  you  talk  to  me  in  that  way,"  he  cried,  "  or 
I'll  make  you  sorry  for  it,  you  brazen-faced  hussy  !  " 


192  SUMMER     IN     DANBURY. 

"  Hussy,  hussy  ! "  she  screamed.  "Ain't  you 
ashamed  of  yourself,  John  Jacob  ColUns,  to  call 
your  wife  a  hussy  ?  Hussy,  am  I  ?  you  old  villain  ! 
Hussy  is  it  ?  you  miserable  brute  !  I'm  to  be  called 
a  hussy,  am  I,  after  working  my  knuckles  off  for 
you,  and  slaving  for  thirty  years  after  your  crook- 
ed carcass  ?  There ! "  she  cried  in  a  paroxysm, 
throwing  the  mallet  on  the  ground,  "  take  your  old 
croquet,  and  shove  it  down  your  lying  throat,  and 
choke  yourself  to  death  with  it,  if  you  want  to,  you 
miserable  old  wretch  !  And  don't  you  never  ask 
me  to  play  with  you  again,  or  I'll  tell  you  some- 
thing you'll  remember  the  longest  day  you  live, 
you  old  devil !  " 

And  then  she  bounced  into  the  house,  leaving 
him  standing  out  there,  and  rubbing  his  head  in  a 
benumbed  sort  of  way.  But,  almost  immediately 
after,  she  thrust  her  head  out  of  the  window,  and 
snapped  out,  "  You  needn't  think  you  are  going 
to  get  any  hot  biscuit  for  your  tea  in  this  house 
this  night,  young  man  ;  and  you  can  put  that  in 
your  pipe  and  smoke  it  just  as  soon  as  you  are  a 
mind  to." 


PUTTING    DOWN     THE    WINDOWS. 

This  is  the  season  of  the  year  when  a  man  may 
expect  to  be  suddenly  called  at  any  moment  in  the 
night  to  get  up  and  put  down  the  windows.     On 


PUTTING    DOWN    THE    WINDOWS.  193 

the  advent  of  a  thunder-shower,  it  is  rarely  that  a 
man  wakes  first :  if  he  should,  he  keeps  quiet  so 
as  not  to  disturb  his  wife,  and  avails  himself  of  the 
first  lull  to  go  to  sleep  again.  How  differently  a 
woman  acts  !  —  oh,  so  differently  !  Just  as  soon  as 
she  wakes  up,  and  hears  that  it  is  raining,  she  seems 
to  lose  all  judgment  at  once.  She  plants  both  of 
her  feet  into  her  husband's  back,  at  the  same  time 
catching  him  by  the  hair,  and  shaking  his  head,  and 
hysterically  screams,  — 

"  Get  up  !  get  up  quick  !  It's  a-pouring  right 
down  in  torrents,  and  all  the  windows  are  up  ! " 

He  cannot  wake  up,  under  such  circumstances, 
with  an  immediately  clear  conception  of  the  case  : 
in  fact,  it  frequently  happens  that  he  is  way  out  on 
the  floor  before  his  eyes  are  fairly  open,  having  but 
one  idea  really  at  work,  and  that  as  to  what  he  is 
doing  out  of  bed.  The  first  thing  to  do  is  to 
strike  a  light ;  and  while  he  is  moving  around  for 
the  matches,  and  swearing  that  some  one  has 
broken  into  the  house  and  moved  them  from  where 
he  laid  them  on  going  to  bed  (which  is  always 
plausible  enough),  she  hurls  after  him  the  following 
tonics :  — 

"Do  hurry!  Mercy,  how  that  rain  is  coming 
right  into  those  windows  !  We  won't  have  a  car- 
pet left  if  you  don't  move  faster.  What  on  earth 
are  you  doing  all  this  time  .''  Can't  find  the 
matches .-'     Mercy  sake  !  you  ain't  going  to  stum- 


194  SUMMER     IN     DANBURY. 

ble  round  here  looking  for  matches,  are  you,  when 
the  water  is  drowning  us  out  ?  Go  without  a  Hght ! 
What  a  man  you  are  !  I  might  have  better  got  up 
in  the  first  place.  Well  (despairingly),  let  the 
things  go  to  ruin,  if  you  are  a  mind  to.  I've  said 
all  I'm  going  to,  an'  I  don't  care  if  the  whole  house 
goes  to  smash.  You  always  would  have  your  own 
way,  an'  I  s'pose  you  always  will ;  and  now  you  can 
do  as  you  please  :  but  don't  you  dare  to  open  your 
mouth  to  me  about  it  when  the  ruin's  done.  I've 
talked  an'  talked  till  I'm  tired  to  death,  and  I  sha'n't 
talk  any  more.  We  never  could  keep  any  thing 
decent,  and  we  never  can  ;  an'  so  that's  the  end  of 
it.  [A  very  brief  pause.]  yoJin  Henry,  are  y oil,  of 
are  y 021  not,  going  to  shut  down  those  windows  .-'  " 

Just  then  he  finds  the  matches,  and  breaks  the 
discourse  by  striking  a  light.  He  was  bound  to 
have  that  help  before  he  moved  out  of  the  room. 
He  has  got  the  lamp  lighted  now.  No  sooner  does 
its  glare  fill  the  room  than  he  immediately  blows  it 
out  again  for  obvious  reasons.  He  had  forgotten 
the  windows  were  open  and  the  brevity  of  his 
night-shirt.  It  almost  causes  him  to  shiver  when 
he  thinks  of  his  narrow  escape.  He  moves  out 
into  the  other  room  with  celerity  now.  He  knows 
pretty  well  the  direction  to  go;  and,  when  a  flash 
of  lightning  comes,  it  shows  him  on  the  verge  of 
climbing  over  a  stool  or  across  the  centre-table.  If 
there  is  a  rocking-chair  in  the  house,  he  will  strike 


AN     INEXPENSIVE    CELEBRATION.  195 

it.  A  rocking-chair  is  much  surer  in  its  aim  than 
a  streak  of  lightning.  It  never  misses,  and  it 
never  hits  a  man  in  but  one  spot;  and  that  is  just 
at  the  base  of  his  shin.  We  have  fallen  against 
more  than  eight  hundred  rockers  of  all  patterns 
and  prices,  and  always  received  the  first  blow  in  the 
one  place.  We  have  been  with  dying  people,  and 
have  heard  them  affirm  in  the  solemn  hush  of  that 
last  hour  that  a  rocking-chair  always  hits  a  man  on 
the  shin  first. 

And,  when  a  man  gets  up  in  the  dead  of  night 
to  shut  down  windows,  he  never  misses  the  rock- 
ing-chair. It  is  the  rear  end  of  one  of  the  rockers 
which  catches  him.  It  is  a  dreadful  agony.  But 
he  rarely  cries  out :  he  knows  his  audience  too 
well.  A  woman  never  falls  over  a  rocking-chair ; 
and  she  never  will  understand  why  a  man  does. 
But  she  can  tell  whether  he  has,  by  the  way  he 
puts  down  the  windows  when  he  finally  reaches 
them.  A  rocking-chair  window  (if  we  may  be 
allowed  the  term)  can  be  heard  three  times  as  far 
as  any  other. 


AN     INEXPENSIVE     CELEBRATION. 

One  of  the  most  painful  of  the  accidents  haj> 
pening  on  Independence  Day  occurred  to  a  family 
living  on  Osborne  Street.  Two  of  the  young  sons 
had  improvised  a  cannon  from   an  old  gun-barrel. 


196  SUMMER     IN     DANBURY. 

The  father  gave  them  a  pound  of  powder,  and  took 
a  lively  interest  in  the  firing.  It  was  not  an  orna- 
mental piece  ;  but  it  made  a  most  astonishing  noise, 
which  is  of  more  importance. 

"Ram  her  down  tight  this  time,"  suggested  the 
exultant  father,  a  little  impatient  to  increase  the 
sound, 

"  But  what  will  the  neighbors  think  .'* "  mildly 
protested  his  wife.     '*'  You'll  jar  their  heads  off." 

"  Fudge  on  their  heads !  This  is  the  glorious 
Fourth,  and  it  don't  come  but  once  a  year.  —  Ram 
her  down,  boys,  an'  make  her  sing." 

They  did.  They  worked  like  veterans,  and  put 
in  a  lot  of  grass,  and  hammered  away  at  the  wad- 
ding like  a  pair  of  pile-drivers.  Then  they  fixed  it 
for  touching  off.  The  father  was  sitting  on  the 
fence,  weaving  to  and  fro,  and  smiling  with  all  his 
might.  The  match  was  applied.  There  was  a 
siss,  a  flash,  and  then  a  discharge  which  seemed  to 
shake  the  very  centre  of  the  earth.  At  the  same 
instant,  the  patriotic  father  left  the  fence  back- 
wards, and  went  crashing  end  over  end  into  the 
next  lot,  his  eyes  and  mouth  driven  full  of  dirt  and 
sand.  The  piece  had  exploded  ;  and  a  portion  of 
the  barrel,  weighing  nearly  two  pounds,  flew  across 
the  yard  with  such  force  as  to  completely  rend  the 
seats  from  two  pairs  of  new  overalls  hanging  on  a 
line,  and  then  ploughed  into  the  earth  just  in  front 
of  the  owner  of  the  garments,  knocking  him  over. 


AN     INEXPENSIVE    CELEBRATION.  197 

as  Stated.  When  he  got  on  his  feet,  and  his  eyes 
and  senses  sufficiently  cleared  to  learn  what  had 
happened,  he  unhesitatingly  said,  — 

"  Come,  now,  there's  been  enough  of  this  cussed 
foolishness  for  one  day." 


AUTUMN    IN    DANBURY. 


AUTUMN    IN    DANBURY. 


A    FRIGHTFUL    MISCALCULATION. 

A  SERIOUS  phase  of  disease  is  that  which  attacks 
a  boy  on  a  day  when  he  particularly  objects  to 
going  to  school.  He  tells  his  mother,  with  the 
confiding  frankness  peculiar  to  youth,  that  he  does 
not  feel  well  this  morning.  He  don't  know  what 
it  is;  but  he  is  lame  in  the  joints,  and  his  head 
aches,  and  his  stomach  don't  feel  a  bit  good.  He 
moves  about  slowly  ;  openly  refuses  food ;  looks 
dejected,  negligent,  unhappy.  Quite  frequently 
he  can  be  heard  to  sigh.  But,  in  all  his  pain,  he 
never  forgets  the  clock.  As  time  advances  to  the 
hour  which  marks  school-time,  his  symptoms  in- 
crease. He  doesn't  say  a  word  about  school  to  his 
mother :  he  feels  too  dreadful,  perhaps,  to  talk  of 
such  things.  He  is  certainly  in  a  bad  way.  His 
sighs  increase  as  the  dreaded  time  approaches, 
and  the  physical  symptoms  of  decay  grow  more 
and  more  manifest.  But  the  greatest  suffering  he 
endures  mentally.     Fifteen  minutes  to  nine  is  the 


202  AUTUMN     IN    DANBURY. 

time  he  should  start.  It  lacks  but  ten  minutes  of 
that  time  ;  and  nothing  has  been  said  to  him  about 
getting  ready.  He  wants  to  believe  he  is  all  right, 
because  that  is  the  prompting  of  hope,  which  is 
strong  in  the  youthful  breast  ;  but  yet  he  refuses 
to  believe  he  is,  because  he  fears  the  re-action  of 
disappointment.  Every  time  he  hears  his  mother's 
voice,  he  is  startled ;  and,  every  time  he  detects  her 
looking  toward  him,  he  feels  his  heart  sink  within 
him.  It  is  a  hard  thing,  indeed,  to  appear  out- 
wardly languid  and  listless  and  drooping,  when 
inwardly  one  is  a  roaring  furnace  of  agony  ;  but 
he  does  it,  and  does  it  admirably.  It  now  lacks 
five  minutes  of  the  quarter  :  still  she  says  nothing. 
His  nervousness  is  almost  maddening.  Four  min- 
utes, three  minutes,  two  minutes,  one  minute : 
still  she  makes  no  sign.  Will  his  reason  forsake 
him  .-• 

It  is  the  quarter.  Now  he  should  start,  accord- 
ing to  custom.  One  would  think  he  had  every 
encouragement  now;  but  he  knows,  that,  even  at 
five  minutes  later,  he  can  make  school  by  hurrying. 
The  agony  of  the  suspense  becomes  exquisite.  He 
trembles  all  over,  and  he  cannot  help  it.  His  hair 
is  moist  with  perspiration.  It  seems  as  if  he 
would  give  up  every  thing,  and  sink  into  the  grave, 
if  he  could  but  know  the  result.  How  slowly  the 
clock  moves !  It  stares  at  him  with  exasperating 
stoniness.      The    ten    minutes   are    reached :    he 


A    FRIGHTFUL    MISCALCULATION.  203 

breathes  easier.  Not  a  word  has  been  said  to  him 
about  school.  His  mother  sees  that  he  is  too  ill 
to  go,  and  she  sympathizes  with  him.  Heaven 
bless  her !  Did  ever  a  boy  have  such  a  good, 
noble  mother  as  this  .-•  Visions  of  sunny  fields,  and 
shady  woods,  and  running  streams,  unfold  before 
him,  stirring  the  very  depths  of  his  soul,  and  filling 
his  eyes  with  tears  of  gladness. 

*'John!" 

Like  a  great  shock  the  beautiful  pictures  fall 
away,  and  he  is  shot  from  the  pinnacle  of  hope 
into  the  abyss  of  despair.  There  is  no  mistaking 
the  voice. 

"  Mercy  sakes  !  here  you  are  not  ready  for  school ! 
Come,  start  your  boots." 

"I  —  I  don't  feel  well  enough  to  go  to  school," 
he  whines,  hardly  realizing  the  dreadful  change 
that  has  come  upon  him  with  such  blighting  force 
and  swiftness. 

"  I  guess  you  ain't  dying,  quite,"  is  the  heartless 
reply ;  and,  if  you  ain't  in  school,  you  will  be  gal- 
loping over  the  neighborhood.     Hurry,  I  tell  you." 

"But  it  is  almost  nine  o'clock,  and  I'll  be  late," 
he  protests  in  desperation. 

"  Late  .-* "  she  repeats,  looking  at  the  clock. 
"  You've  got  plenty  of  time.  That  clock  is  nearly 
a  quarter  of  an  hour  fast.'' 

Merciful  heavens  !  He  goes  down  before  the 
terrific  blow  in  a  flash.     A  quarter  of  an  hour  fast ! 


204  AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 

Bleeding  at  every  pore  of  his  heart,  stunned  by  a 
shock  which  was  as  terrible  as  unexpected,  he 
crawls  inside  of  his  jacket  and  under  his  hat,  and 
starts  on  his  way  in  a  dazed  manner  that  is  pitiful 
to  behold. 


AN    ORNAMENTAL    STOVE. 

The  idea  is  just  suggested,  that  an  ornamental 
stove  be  put  in  the  market ;  not  merely  an  orna- 
mental article,  but  one  that  is  artistic,  —  one  that 
will  adorn  as  well  as  comfort  the  home-circle.  It  is 
a  good  idea,  and  has  our  hearty  support.  In  fact, 
we  are  anxious  about  it.  The  stove  has  no  nobler 
friend  than  the  editor  of  this  paper,  —  no  one  who 
has  given  it  such  careful,  intelligent  study,  —  no 
one  who  has  so  faithfully  tried  to  understand  it. 
So  we  feel  a  peculiar  right  to  speak  out.  The 
article  from  which  we  gather  the  suggestion  says 
that  there  is  no  reason  why  there  should  not  be  a 
costly  stove.  We  don't  exactly  understand  what 
is  meant  by  this.  Every  stove  we  have  had  any 
thing  to  do  with  was  costly  enough.  But  perhaps 
the  writer  refers  to  the  market-price.  If  so,  we 
coincide  with  him.  Stoves  have  been  made  with  a 
view  to  combine  beauty  and  utility  with  economy. 
But  we  suppose  the  people  are  now  ripe  for  a  stove 
that  will  be  an  adornment  without  reference  to  the 
price,  —  just   as    they  feel   in    regard  to   pictures. 


GOING    TO    SLEEP    IN     CHURCH.  205 

vases,  &c.  An  article  in  bronze  or  polished  steel, 
with  French-plate  micas,  mahogany  doors,  and 
German-silver  cornice,  with  an  electro-plated  'scut- 
tle, and  a  pearl-handled  poker,  would  not  be  a  bad 
idea.  Such  a  stove,  enclosed  in  a  rosewood  cabi- 
net, and  dusted  off  twice  a  day  by  a  team  of 
ostriches  hired  expressly  for  that  purpose,  could 
not  fail  of  elevating  and  ennobling  the  atmosphere 
of  any  home.  Its  artistic  loveliness  would  render 
its  removal  unnecessary  in  the  spring  ;  and  this  of 
itself  would  save  its  cost  in  a  very  little  time.  But, 
even  should  it  have  to  be  moved,  what  of  it  ?  No 
man  with  the  least  discernment  of  the  beautiful 
in  his  nature  would  object  to  being  bucked  in  the 
abdomen  by  a  German-silver  cornice,  or  skinning 
his  knuckles  on  a  mahogany  door,  or  even  to  plun- 
ging headlong  over  an  electro-plated  scuttle ;  and 
as  for  sliding  backwards  down  an  entire  flight  of 
stairs  with  so  much  of  the  chaste  and  beautiful  in 
his  arms  at  once,  nothing  would  compare  to  it  in 
the  way  of  luxurious  sensations. 

Let  us  have  an  artistic  stove,  by  all  means,  with 
alabaster  boots  to  put  against  it. 


GOING    TO    SLEEP    IN    CHURCH. 

Did  you  ever  go  to  sleep  in  church  .''     We  don't 
mean    to   ask    if  you    have   done    so    deliberately. 


2o6  AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 

Of  course  you  haven't.  You  put  your  head  on  the 
back  of  the  seat  in  front,  just  to  rest  it  and  to 
think  of  the  sermon.  The  words  of  the  preacher 
are  very  distinct  to  you  at  first.  They  present 
something  for  your  mind  to  take  hold  of,  and  to 
wrestle  intellectually  with.  Then  they  calm  you 
and  soothe  you.  They  become  a  lullaby  that  floats 
through  your  brain,  gently  filling  in  the  crevices, 
and  giving  you  a  blissful  sense  of  rest.  They 
merge  themselves  so  imperceptibly  with  your  most 
distant  thoughts  as  to  lose  their  identity.  Farther 
and  farther  away  they  sound,  until  they-  have  dis- 
appeared entirely.  The  scene  suddenly  changes. 
You  are  in  the  midst  of  a  maddened  mob.  There 
is  a  struggle  on  your  part  to  save  yourself  from 
their  violence.  You  strike  out  and  kick  out,  and 
squirm  and  wrench  yourself.  It  is  a  desperate 
struggle.  Every  muscle  in  your  body  stands  out 
like  whip-cords  ;  every  nerve  is  stretched  to  its 
utmost.  You  succeed  in  getting  free  of  the  mass. 
Then  you  start  on  a  run,  with  the  pack  running 
after  you.  You  cry  out  for  help  ;  you  shriek  at 
the  top  of  your  voice  for  succor.  Blindly  gallop- 
ing along,  you  come  unexpectedly  to  a  precipice. 
You  make  an  herculean  effort  to  save  yourself ; 
but  it  is  too  late.  With  a  scream  of  terror  you  go 
over  its  edge,  and  are  hurled  headlong  into  the 
dreadful  abyss  below.  Then  you  awake.  You 
have   hit  your  head  on  the  back  of  the  pew.     For 


GOING    TO    THE    FIRE.  207 

a  moment  there  is  a  dreadful  vagueness  as  to  your 
whereabouts  :  the  next  moment  brings  with  it  the 
realization  that  you  are  in  church.  The  words  of 
the  minister  awake  you  to  this  consciousness  with 
awful  distinctness.  What  did  you  do  in  that 
dream .-'  is  a  query  that  takes  hold  of  you  with 
frightful  force.  Did  you  throw  your  arms  in  the 
air .''  Did  you  kick  the  bench  .'*  Did  you  scream 
out .''  The  perspiration  gathers  in  great  drops  on 
your  face,  and  sharp  flashes  of  heat  shoot  along 
your  spine,  while  there  is  sinking  enough  in  the  pit 
of  your  stomach  to  start  a  shaft  in  a  gold-mine. 
You  dare  not  look  up.  You  can  imagine  every 
eye  in  the  assembly  is  turned  upon  you,  waiting  to 
confront  you  face  to  face.  It  is  a  dreadful  feeling, 
—  so  dreadful,  that  it  finally  becomes  unbearable  ; 
and  finally  you  slowly  raise  your  head,  and  gradu- 
ally, but  furtively,  glance  about  you.  The  congre- 
gation is  as  you  left  them.  Not  an  eye  is  turned 
towards  you  ;  and  you  might  believe  that  you  had 
not  been  asleep  at  all,  were  it  not  for  the  awakening 
of  one  leg,  accompanied  by  all  the  poignant  sensa- 
tions of  that  operation. 


GOING    TO    THE    FIRE. 

There   is   nothing   so   dreadful    as    the   cry  of 
"Fire"  in    the    night, —  unless   it  is    discovering, 


2o8  AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 

after  getting  your  clothes  on  wrong,  that  it  was  a 
false  alarm.  There  is  a  significance  to  a  cry  of 
"  Fire  "  in  a  village,  which  the  city  knows  not  of. 
In  a  city,  the  aroused  citizen,  on  satisfying  himself 
that  the  disaster  is  not  near  his  own  premises,  re- 
tires to  bed  in  the  comforting  assurance  that  he  will 
feast  on  the  particulars  in  the  morning.  But,  in  a 
small  community,  every  man  is  a  neighbor :  he  knows 
everybody  else,  and  takes  a  deep  interest  in  his 
affairs,  —  especially  in  his  disaster.  He  would  no 
more  think  of  remaining  in  bed  on  a  cry  of  "  Fire  " 
than  he  would  of  remaining  in  his  grave  on  the  cry 
of  Gabriel.  So,  when  the  alarm  sounds,  the  whole 
community  is  aroused,  and  in  a  state  of  intense  ex- 
citement. The  first  dash  the  awakened  citizen 
makes  is  over  two  chairs  and  a  table  to  the  window. 
He  catches  a  sight  of  the  flames,  and,  immediately 
locating  the  scene  of  the  conflagration,  goes  over 
the  chairs  and  table  again  in  a  search  for  his 
clothes.  He  would  strike  a  light :  but,  the  instant 
he  touches  the  match-safe,  it  upsets,  and  throws  its 
contents  to  the  floor  ;  and  he  might  feel  around  in 
the  dark  for  them  seven  years,  without  finding  one 
of  them.  But,  darkness  or  no  darkness,  he  is  dead- 
ly earnest.  He  prances  around  like  a  madman  ;  and 
every  shout  and  hurrying  footstep  going  by  add 
fresh  impetus  to  his  movements.  And,  every  other 
time  his  bare  foot  descends,  it  comes  down  on  the 
heel  of  an  overturned  shoe,  and  nearly  overthrows 


GOING    TO    THE    FIRE.  209 

him.  These  shoes  are  under  his  feet  all  the  time 
till  he  comes  to  need  them  ;  and  then  he  has  to  flop 
down  on  his  knees,  and  prowl  over  the  entire  floor, 
before  finding  them.  It  is  awful  to  be  in  such  a 
nervous  state  in  the  dark.  To  pick  up  your  wife's 
clothes  ten  times  to  where  you  do  your  own  once  ; 
to  strike  your  naked  toes  against  the  casters  of 
the  bed ;  to  step  on  the  round  of  a  chair  instead 
of  on  the  floor  ;  to  get  on  your  pants,  and  then 
discover  you  have  left  off  the  drawers  ;  to  try  to 
find  the  other  arm-hole  to  your  vest ;  to  get  the 
left  shoe  on  the  right  foot  three  times  in  succession  ; 
to  pull  with  all  your  might  on  a  tight  stocking, 
and  find  that  the  heel  is  on  top  of  your  foot,  —  all 
these  things  are  awful.  But  the  climax  of  the  hor- 
ror is  trying  to  get  into  a  pair  of  drawers,  one  leg  of 
which  is  wrong  side  out.  You  are  too  excited  to 
discover  the  error;  although,  if  you  should  give  the 
matter  an  instant  of  thought,  you  would  understand 
that  a  man  never  leaves  that  garment  in  any  other 
shape  on  retiring  for  the  night.  But  you  are  too 
crazed  by  excitement  to  think.  The  whole  build- 
ing may  be  burned  to  the  ground  before  you  get 
there  ;  and  this  reflection,  together  with  the  awful 
thought  that  the  fire  may  be  put  out  before  doing 
much  damage,  completely  unnerves  you.  Every 
movement  you  have  made  about  the  room  has 
tended  to  confuse  that  most  valuable  garment ;  and 
when  you  finally  secure  it,  and  jab  your  foot  at  it 


2IO  AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 

for  an  opening,  the  perspiration  rolls  down  your 
face  to  a  degree  that  is  blinding.  But  it  is  after 
getting  one  foot  in,  and  while  waving  the  other 
around  for  the  other  leglet,  —  that  leglet  which  is 
turned  inside  out, — that  the  real  agony  commences. 
The  thoughts  that  fill  a  man's  mind  as  he  reels 
about  like  a  drunken  man,  and  madly  jabs  the 
wondering  foot  at  the  garment  in  unsuccessful 
thrusts,  cannot  be  properly  depicted.  How  he  per- 
spires !  how  he  breathes !  how  he  foams  at  the 
mouth !  how  he  sobs  and  swears  ! 


AN    EXASPERATING    ARTICLE. 

Now  that  the  house-cleaning  is  over,  a  new  ex- 
asperation sets  in.  This  is  the  tidies.  All  winter 
long  they  have  been  making.  The  woman  from 
the  next  house  has  either  been  in  and  on  her  knees, 
examining  your  wife's  worsted  and  patterns,  or 
your  wife  has  been  on  her  knees  over  there,  exam- 
ining hers.  It  is  the  same  thing.  About  a  quarter 
ton  of  worsted  has  been  used  up.  It  has  been  over 
the  floor,  or  the  tables,  or  bureau-tops,  pretty  much 
all  of  the  time.  It  has  got  entangled  with  the 
comb  and  razor-strop,  and  other  things  which  you 
have  wanted.  Its  favorite  receptacle  has  been  the 
handkerchief-drawer  ;  and  every  time  you  have 
wanted  a  handkerchief   has  been  the  signal  for  a 


AN     EXASPERATING    ARTICLE. 


pitched  battle  with  that  contemptible  worsted. 
Once  in  a  while  it  has  been  left  on  a  chair,  the  cro- 
chet-needles sticking  upward:  this  has  instructed, 
if  it  hasn't  amused  you.  The  house  has  been  put  to 
rights  ;  and  that  mass  of  worsted  and  needles,  hav- 
ing evolved  into  block-flowers,  step-ladder  angels, 
and  crooked  butterflies,  is  now  spread  out  on  the 
backs  of  the  easiest  chairs  and  the  sofas.  We  don't 
like  tidies.  We  don't  object  to  t-hem  as  works  of 
art ;  but  we  dislike  them  because  of  the  irritation 
they  cause.  They  are  designed  to  set  off  a  chair  ; 
but  it  is  the  man  who  sets  off  that  chair.  When 
the  head  of  the  house  comes  home  at  night,  wearied 
with  toil  and  argument,  and  drops  into  the  easy- 
chair,  the  action  may  be  strictly  construed  into  a 
direct  effort  to  be  comfortable.  He  leans  his  head 
back,  and  closes  his  eyes.  She  pounces  on  him  at 
once.  "  Merciful  goodness  "  is  all  she  is  able  to 
exclaim  as  she  bounces  his  head  from  the  work  of 
art.  She  does  recover  sufficient  breath,  however, 
to  wonder  "  what  on  earth  a  man  can  be  thinking  of 
to  lay  his  greasy  head  against  a  tidy.  But  that's  just 
the  way  when  one  tries  to  be  a  little  decent,  and  have 
the  house  look  a  mite  respectable."  As  he  cannot 
sit  bolt  upright  in  an  easy-chair.  Nature  never  hav- 
ing intended  he  should,  he  sneaks  off  to  a  sofa,  and 
drops  down  there.  He  has  just  got  fixed  so  he  can 
close  his  eyes  and  think,  when  he  is  suddenly  lifted 
by  the  hair,  and  opens  his  eyes  to  behold  a  horrified 


AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 


woman,  with  an  apparently  petrified  finger  pointed 
directly  at  a  ruffled  tidy. 

•'  My  dear,"  says  he  meekly,  "  is  there  any  sub- 
stantial objection  to  my  going  out  and  perching 
jnyself  on  a  clothes-line  ?  " 

But  the  sarcasm  is  lost  on  her. 

"What's  the  use,"  she  angrily  demands,  "  foi 
your  lopping  yourself  down  on  any  thing  like  a 
great  horse  .-'  Why  don't  you  sit  on  a  chair  like 
anybody  else  .-' " 

To  be  sure.     Why  don't  he,^ 


GETTING    YOUR    PICTURE. 

The  operator  is  just  about  to  withdraw  the  cloth. 
His  bacK  is  toward  you.  The  index-finger  of  his  un- 
occupied hand  mutely  marks  the  place  for  your  eye. 
Every  nerve  in  your  body  is  braced  for  the  ordeal. 
The  cloth  is  drawn  ;  and  the  noiseless  and  unseen 
fingers  of  the  prepared  plate  are  picking  up  your 
features  one  by  one,  and  transferring  them  to  its 
mysterious  surface.  What  an  influence  is  this  you 
are  under,  and  which  you  cannot  explain,  which 
weakens  every  nerve,  and  unloosens  every  cord  and 
muscle,  and  sets  free  upon  and  over  you  a  myriad 
of  sensations  you  never  knew  before  !  The  eye  of 
the  camera  glares  upon  you  like  the  eye  of  an 
offended  and  threatening  power.     Prickling  sensa 


i 


GETTING    YOUR    PICTURE.  213 

tions  are  felt  in  your  scalp ;  and  a  heat  evolved 
within  with  amazing  rapidity  flushes  to  the  surface 
of  your  body,  and  leaves  it  pierced  with  a  thousand 
pains.  You  stare  at  the  mark  with  an  intensity 
that  threatens  to  obliterate  your  sight.  Heavens  ! 
how  slowly  the  time  drags !  Your  eyes  grow 
weaker  and  weaker,  filling  with  water  as  they  die 
out.  You  know  that  they  are  closing;  but  you 
cannot  help  yourself.  Will  he  never  put  back  that 
cloth  ?  A  thousand  reflections  upon  your  appear- 
ance, on  the  sounds  in  the  streets,  on  things  irrever- 
ent, and  disastrous  to  your  composure,  flood  your 
mind,  and  take  such  hold  upon  you,  that  you  cannot 
shake  them  off.  And  yet  no  move  to  restore  that 
cloth.  He  stands  like  a  statue  cut  from  flint,  and 
you  quivering  from  the  sole  of  the  foot  to  the  crown 
of  the  head,  with  eyes  blinded  by  tears,  with  per- 
spiration oozing  from  every  pore,  and  every  muscle 
strained  until  it  seems  ready  to  snap,  and  let  you 
down  upon  the  floor,  a  mass  of  disfigured  and  pal- 
pitating flesh.  He  need  not  put  up  the  cloth  7iow. 
The  opportunity  which  he  controlled  to  reproduce 
you  in  perfection  is  gone.  It  matters  not  now  how 
it  looks,  only  that  you  get  away,  and  be  at  rest. 
You  grow  hysteric  in  your  despair.  It  settles  down 
upon  you  like  a  cloud,  compressing  your  throat 
within  its  grasp,  until  your  breath  surges  back  on 
to  your  lungs  as  if  it  would  rend  them.  A  weight  is 
pressing  upon  you.     You  struggle  to  wrench  your- 


214  AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 


self  free  from  the  dreadful  oppression,  and  yet  not 
a  muscle  of  your  body  is  in  motion.  What  dreadful 
thing  is  this?  You  n\ust  shriek;  you —  The 
cloth  is  up ;  the  thirty  seconds  have  expired  ;  and 
you  are  photographed. 


A    WOMAN'S     POCKET. 

The  most  difficult  thing  to  reach  is  a  woman's 
pocket.  This  is  especially  the  case  if  the  dress  is 
hung  up  in  a  closet,  and  the  man  is  in  a  hurry. 
We  think  we  are  safe  in  saying  that  he  always  is 
in  a  hurry  on  such  an  occasion.  The  owner  of  the 
dress  is  in  the  sitting-room,  serenely  engrossed  in  a 
book.  Having  told  him  that  the  article  which  he 
is  in  quest  of  is  in  her  dress  pocket  in  the  closet, 
she  has  discharged  her  whole  duty  in  the  matter, 
and  can  afford  to  feel  serene.  He  goes  at  the  task 
with  a  dim  consciousness  that  he  has  been  there 
before,  but  says  nothing.  On  opening  the  closet- 
door,  and  finding  himself  confronted  with  a  number 
of  dresses,  all  turned  inside  out,  and  presenting 
a  most  formidable  front,  he  hastens  back  to  ask, 
"  Which  dress  ? "  and  being  told  the  brown  one, 
and  also  asked  if  she  has  so  many  dresses  that 
there  need  be  any  great  effort  to  find  the  right 
one,  he  returns  to  the  closet  with  alacrity,  and  soon 
has  his  hands  on  the  brown  dress.     It  is  inside  out, 


A    WOMAN  S    POCKET.  215 

like  the  rest,  —  a  fact  he  does  not  notice,  however, 
until  he  has  made  several  ineffectual  attempts  to 
get  his  hand  into  it.  Then  he  turns  it  around  very 
carefully,  and  passes  over  the  pocket  several  times 
without  being  aware  of  it.  A  nervous  moving  of 
his  hands  and  an  appearance  of  perspiration  on 
his  forehead  are  perceptible.  He  now  dives  one 
hand  in  at  the  back,  and,  feeling  around,  finds  a 
place,  and  proceeds  to  explore  it,  when  he  discovers 
that  he  is  following  up  the  inside  of  a  lining.  The 
nervousness  increases,  also  the  perspiration.  He 
twitches  the  dress  on  the  hook  ;  and  suddenly  the 
pocket,  white,  plump,  and  exasperating,  comes  to 
view.  Then  he  sighs  the  relief  he  feels,  and  is 
mentally  grateful  he  did  not  allow  himself  to  use 
any  offensive  expressions.  It  is  all  right  now. 
There  is  the  pocket  in  plain  view,  —  not  the  inside, 
but  the  outside,  —  and  all  he  has  to  do  is  to  put  his 
hand  right  around  in  the  inside,  and  take  out  the 
article.  That  is  all.  He  can't  help  but  smile  to 
think  how  near  he  was  to  getting  mad.  Then  he 
puts  his  hand  around  to  the  other  side.  He  does 
not  feel  the  opening.  He  pushes  a  little  farther. 
Now  he  has  got  it.  He  shoves  the  hand  down,  and 
is  very  much  surprised  to  see  it  appear  opposite  his 
knees.  He  had  made  a  mistake.  He  tries  again  : 
again  he  feels  the  entrance,  and  glides  down  it,  only 
to  appear  again  as  before.  This  makes  him  open 
his  eyes,  and  straighten  his  face.     He  feels  of  the 


2l6  AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 

outside  of  the  pocket,  pinches  it  curiously,  Hfts  it  up, 
shakes  it,  and,  after  peering  closely  about  the  roots 
of  it,  he  says,  "By  gracious!"  and  commences 
again.  He  does  it  calmly  this  time,  because  hur- 
rying only  makes  matters  worse.  He  holds  up 
breadth  after  breadth  ;  goes  over  them  carefully ; 
gets  his  hand  first  into  a  lining,  then  into  the  air 
again  (where  it  always  surprises  him  when  it 
appears),  and  finally  into  a  pocket,  and  is  about  to 
cry  out  with  triumph,  when  he  discovers  that  it  is 
the  pocket  to  another  dress.  He  is  mad  now.  The 
closet  air  almost  stifles  him.  He  is  so  nervous,  he 
can  hardly  contain  himself ;  and  the  pocket  looks 
at  him  so  exasperatingly,  that  he  cannot  help  but 
"  plug "  it  with  his  clinched  fist,  and  immediately 
does  it.  Being  somewhat  relieved  by  this  perform- 
ance, he  has  a  chance  to  look  about  him,  and  sees 
that  he  has  put  his  foot  through  a  bandbox,  and 
into  the  crown  of  his  wife's  bonnet ;  has  broken 
the  brim  to  his  Panama  hat,  which  was  hanging  in 
the  same  closet;  and  torn  about  a  yard  of  bugle- 
trimming  from  a  new  cloak.  As  all  this  trouble  is 
due  directly  to  his  wife's  infatuation  in  hanging  up 
her  dresses  inside  out,  he  immediately  starts  after 
her,  and,  impetuously  urging  her  to  the  closet, 
excitedly  and  almost  profanely  intimates  his  doubts 
of  there  being  a  pocket  in  the  dress  anyway.  The 
cause  of  the  unhappy  disaster  quietly  inserts  her 
hand  inside  the  robe,  and  directly  brings  it  forth 


THE  CARPET  AT  THE  DOOR.       217 

with  the  soLight-for  article  in  its  clasp.  He  doesn't 
know  why ;  but  this  makes  him  madder  than  any 
thine:  else. 


THE     CARPET     AT     THE     DOOR. 

Some  women  much  prefer  to  use  a  bit  of  rag- 
carpet  in  place  of  a  regular-made  mat  at  their 
doors.  It  is  a  good  idea.  If  there  is  any  thing 
better  calculated  to  attract  a  man's  attention  than 
a  rag-carpet  at  a  door,  we  don't  know  of  it.  It 
causes  more  hard  feeling,  and  is  productive  of  more 
hard  and  unforgiving  words,  than  any  article  about 
the  house,  excepting  always  the  family  hammer. 
Three  pieces  of  rag-carpet  thus  situated  will  bank- 
rupt an  upright  man  inside  of  a  fortnight,  and  turn 
a  happy  home  into  an  uproarious  and  outrageous 
Bedlani^  Not  one  man  in  one  hundred  can  go 
through  a  door  thus  protected  without  catching  his 
foot  in  that  carpet,  to  the  great  danger  of  flinging 
himself  violently  to  the  floor,  and  flattening  his 
nose.  And  it  not  only  twists  his  legs,  but  it  drags 
over  the  sill,  and  catches  the  door  as  he  shuts  it, 
and  starts  his  temper  afresh.  It  being  too  degrad- 
ing and  unmanly  to  stoop  down  and  remove  the 
obstacle  with  his  hand,  he  gives  it  a  kick,  and  is 
surprised  to  see  how  easy  it  is  to  miss  it.  He 
fetches  another  and  more  vicious  kick  at  it,  and 
succeeds  in  removinc:  about  an  inch  of  it.     Then 


2l8  AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 

he  swings  the  door  to,  and,  setting  his  teeth 
together,  attempts  to  shut  it  over  the  obstacle. 
The  more  the  obstruction  resists  him,  the  more 
desperately  he  pushes.  This  is  on  the  generally- 
received  and  very  agreeable  theory,  that  inanimate 
things  are  human  in  so  far  as  it  is  human  to  be 
vicious  and  obstinate.  It  is  the  principle  which 
induces  a  boy  to  pound  a  stick  of  wood  which  flies 
up  and  hits  him.  Having  convinced  himself  that 
the  building  will  not  sufficiently  give  to  permit  of 
shutting  the  door  without  removing  the  carpet,  the 
carpet  is  kicked  away  (it  is  never  laid  away) ;  and 
it  is  either  kicked  the  whole  length  of  the  hall,  or 
tumbled  in  a  heap  just  outside  the  sill,  where  the 
next  person  appearing  catches  both  feet  into  it, 
and  shoots  into  the  room  with  hair  erect,  eyeballs 
protruding,  and  feet  madly  and  passionately  en- 
deavoring to  recover  their  balance,  * 


A    SERIOUS     PROBLEM. 

A  READER  who  is  recently  married  writes  us, 
asking  which  end  of  a  stove  is  the  lightest.  We 
really  wish  we  knew  ;  but  we  don't.  A  stove  is 
very  deceiving ;  and  one  has  to  become  well  ac- 
quainted with  a  new  one  to  find  its  points  of  ad- 
vantage. Our  friend  should  not  be  too  hasty  in 
taking   hold   of  a   stove.     A   stove   that   is  to  be 


A    SERIOUS    PROBLEM.  ftig 

moved  should  be  visited  in  the  still  watches  of  the 
night  before,  and  carefully  examined  by  the  light 
of  a  good  lamp.  The  very  end  we  thought  the 
lightest  may  prove  the  heaviest  (in  fact,  is  extreme- 
ly likely  to) ;  or  it  may  be  that  the  lightest  end  is 
the  most  difficult  to  get  hold  of  and  hang  on  to. 
It  is  a  very  distressing  undertaking  to  carry  a  half 
ton  of  stove  by  your  finger-nails,  with  a  cold- 
blooded man  easily  holding  the  other  end,  and  a 
nervous  woman  —  with  a  dust-pan  in  one  hand,  and 
a  broom  in  the  other  —  bringing  up  the  rear,  and 
getting  the  broom  between  your  legs.  In  going  up 
stairs,  it  is  best  to  be  at  the  lower  end  of  the  stove. 
Going  backwards  up  a  stairway  with  a  stove  in 
your  hands  requires  a  delicacy  of  perception  which 
very  few  people  possess,  and  which  can  only  come 
after  years  of  conscientious  practice.  If  you  are 
below,  you  have  the  advantage  of  missing  much 
that  must  be  painful  to  a  sensitive  nature.  The 
position  you  are  in  brings  your  face  pretty  close  to 
the  top  of  the  stove  ;  and,  as  no  one  can  be  expect- 
ed to  see  what  is  going  on  when  thus  situated,  you 
are  relieved  from  all  responsibility  and  thought  in 
the  matter,  with  nothing  to  do  but  to  push  valiantly 
ahead,  and  think  of  heaven.  Then  above  you  is 
the  carman,  whom  you  do  not  see,  with  his  lips  two 
inches  apart,  his  eyes  protruding,  and  his  tongue 
lolling  on  his  chin.  And  it  is  well  you  don't  see 
him  ;  for  it  is  an  awful  sight.     But  the  chief  advan- 


AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 


tage  of  being  below  is,  that,  in  case  of  the  stove 
falling,  you  will  be  caught  beneath  it,  and  instantly- 
killed.  Nothing  short  of  your  death  will  ever  com- 
pensate for  the  scratched  paint,  soiled  carpet,  and 
torn  oil-cloth  ;  and  no  man  in  his  senses,  and  with 
his  hearing  unimpaired,  would  want  to  survive  the 
catastrophe. 


FIGHTING    THE    WIND. 

The  wind  is  governed  by  atmospheric  changes 
and  coal-ashes.  We  don't  know  positively  which 
has  the  greater  influence ;  but  we  are  inclined  to 
stake  our  all  on  coal-ashes.  We  do  not  believe 
that  all  the  atmosphere  about  us  can  control  the 
wind  to  the  degree  that  one  hod  of  coal-ashes  can 
when  passing  through  a  sieve  in  the  hands  of  a 
man  who  has  got  his  best  suit  of  clothes  on.  We 
remember  an  occasion  when  the  wind  was  blowing 
direct  from  the  west,  and  had  been  blowing  from 
that  direction  all  day,  and  bade  fair  to  blow  straight 
from  that  direction  as  long  as  there  was  any  direc- 
tion left,  that  a  man  (whose  name  we  need  not 
mention),  dressed  in  his  best  suit  of  clothes,  and 
with  pomade  on  his  hair,  stood  on  the  west  side  of 
a  sieve  of  coal-ashes,  and  undertook  to  screen  them. 
We  remember  too,  —  and  we  remember  it  with  a 
vividness  that  is  quite  remarkable,  —  that,  when 
he  had  gyrated  that  sieve  about  three  times,  that 


FiGHTLNa  THE  WiND.  —  Page  220. 


A    COTTON     FOE.  221 

western  gale  veered  around  to  the  east  with  such 
appalling  promptness,  that,  before  he  could  make 
the  slightest  move  to  save  kimself,  he  had  disap- 
peared—  Sunday  clothes,  pomade,  and  all  —  in  a 
blinding  cloud  of  ashes,  out  of  which  immediately 
emerged  the  most  extraordinary  wheezing,  sneez- 
ing, and  coughing  ever  heard  in  that  neighborhood. 
One  sieveful  of  coal-ashes,  with  the  operator  dressed 
for  church,  has  been  known  to  change  the  wind  to 
thirty-two  points  of  the  compass. 


A    COTTON    FOE. 

One  of  the  most  annoying  complaints  in  the 
range  of  medical  knowledge  is  a  cold  in  the  head. 
But  you  would  not  think  so.  No  newspaper  which 
publishes  intricate  recipes  for  complicated  diseases 
tells,  even  in  the  most  vague  way,  how  to  cure  a 
cold  in  the  head.  No  doctor  in  regular  practice 
pretends  to  know  any  thing  about  it.  It  is  the 
wandering  Jew  of  ailments.  It  invades  every 
household  with  impunity,  and  snaps  its  feverish 
finger  in  the  very  face  of  medical  science  ;  and 
medical  science  promptly  dodges,  and  is  glad  it 
can.  The  man  with  a  cold  in  his  head  is  a  mourn 
ful  fabric  to  contemplate.  He  is  ostracized  from 
company.  He  is  barred  out  from  the  family  circle. 
He  loses  his  interest  in  every  thing  but  a  stove  and 


222  AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 

a  handkerchief ;  and,  were  he  called  upon  to  give  an 
expression,  it  would  be  found  that  his  idea  of  heaven 
was  a  place  where  stove-founderies  and  cotton- 
mills  were  about  equally  divided.  His  eyes  are 
watery;  his  skin  is  drawn  tight  to  his  flesh  ;  his 
nose  is  swollen,  of  a  fiery  red,  and  sorer  than  a 
strange  dog.  What  he  mostly  fears  is  the  draught ; 
but,  in  spite  of  his  most  active  endeavors,  he  is  sure 
to  get  into  it  ;  and  he  is  hardly  able  to  conceal  his 
surprise  at  the  pressure  of  business  the  family  is 
subjected  to,  which  keeps  the  door  open  about  two- 
thirds  of  the  time,  and  establishes  an  almost  unin- 
terrupted current  of  air  about  his  legs.  Screwed 
up  back  of  the  stove,  with  his  nose  like  a  beacon 
shining  above  it,  he  patiently  holds  his  handker- 
chief to  the  blaze,  and  finally  slips  into  a  mental 
calculation  as  to  which  will  first  lose  its  moisture, 
—  his  cotton,  or  his  blood.  There  he  sits  all  day, 
with  the  handkerchief  as  a  flag  of  truce  tendered 
by  the  fire  in  his  head  to  the  fire  in  the  stove  ;  and 
at  night  he  goes  scudding  through  a  cold  hall, 
sneezing  at  every  leap.  Long  after  every  one  else 
is  asleep,  he  starts  up  with  a  terrific  sneeze,  and 
finds  that  his  feet  are  sticking  out  below  the  quilts, 
and  that  the  handkerchief,  which  he  meant  to  have 
carefully  located  for  just  this  emergency,  is  no- 
where to  be  found. 


NOW    AND    THEN.  223 


NOW    AND    THEN. 

You  know  her.  She  Hves  on  your  street.  Her 
features  are  either  pinched,  or  full  and  frowzy. 
Her  dress  is  wet,  ill-fitting,  and  of  no  particular 
pattern  ;  her  slippers  are  broken  down ;  her  hair 
is  uncombed  ;  her  voice  is  either  shrill  or  coarse. 
You  have  seen  her  stand  out  in  the  back-yard,  and 
put  a  bare  arm  up  to  her  eyes,  and  under  it  peer 
out  to  the  fence  or  barn,  where  a  man,  in  an  ill- 
fitting  coat,  is  searching  for  something  ;  and  have 
heard  her  shout,  "  John  !  can't  George  bring  me 
some  water .'' "  And  you  have  heard  him  cry 
back,  "  If  he  don*t  get  that  water,  I  will  take  every 
inch  of  flesh  from  his  bones."  And,  when  you 
have  looked  at  her  again,  does  it  seem  possible 
that  those  angry  eyes  have  drooped  in  maidenly 
reserve,  or  raised  in  coquettish  light  to  the  face  of 
the  man  in  the  ill-fitting  coat  ?  Can  you,  by  any 
possible  wrench  of  the  imagination,  conceive  of 
his  tenderly  passing  peppermints  to  her  .-•  of  his 
taking  that  hand  in  his,  and  bashfully  squeezing  it } 
But  it  was  so.  Many  a  "  God  bless  you  "  has  been 
uttered  above  that  bare  head,  many  a  kiss  pressed 
on  that  uncombed  hair.  The  tightly-compressed 
lips  have  lovingly  framed  tender  invitations  to  him 
to  take  another  bite  of  cake  and  pickle.  The  hands 
that  are  now  parboiled  and  blistered,  and  marked 
with   scars   from   the   bread-knife,    and    scratches 


224  AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 

from  the  last  setting-hen,  were  once  twined  lov- 
ingly about  his  neck  ;  and  the  nose,  which  is  now 
peaked  and  red,  and  looks  as  if  it  would  stand  on 
its  hind-legs  and  scream  with  rage,  once  followed 
the  figures  of  his  new  vest-pattern,  or  bore  heavily 
against  his  jugular  vein.  As  little  probable  as  this 
seems  to  you,  it  seems  less  to  her.  She  has  for- 
gotten it:  she  won't  hear  it  talked  of  by  others: 
she  cannot  bear  to  see  it  acted  by  others.  Two 
lovers  are  to  her  a  "passel  of  fools."  And  —  but 
George  is  rubbing  his  head ;  and  we  turn  aside 
while  our  heroine  re-adjusts  her  slipper. 


A    PECULIAR    TORTURE. 

Having  a  photograph  taken  is  one  of  the  great 
events  in  a  man's  life.  The  chief  desire  is  to  look 
the  very  best  ;  and  on  the  success  of  the  pic- 
ture hinges,  in  many  cases,  the  most  important 
epoch  in  life.  To  work  up  a  proper  appearance 
time  enough  is  used,  which,  if  devoted  to  catching 
fleas  for  their  phosphorus,  would  cancel  the  entire 
national  debt,  and  establish  a  New- York  daily 
paper.  When  you  have  completed  your  toilet,  you 
go  to  the  gallery,  and  force  yourself  into  a  noncha- 
lance of  expression  that  is  too  absurd  for  anything. 
Then  you  take  the  chair,  spread  your  legs  grace- 
fully, appropriate  a  calm  and  indifferent  look,  and 


A  Pbculiai?  Tobtube.  —  Page  224, 


A    PECULIAR    TORTURE.  225 

commence  to  perspire.  An  attenuated  man  with 
a  pale  face,  long  hatr,  and  a  soiled  nose,  now  comes 
out  of  a  cavern  and  adjusts  the  camera.  Then 
he  gets  back  of  you,  and  tells  you  to  sit  back  as 
far  as  you  can  in  the  chair,  and  that  it  has  been  a 
remarkably  backward  spring.  After  getting  you 
back  till  your  spine  interferes  with  the  chair  itself, 
he  shoves  your  head  into  a  pair  of  ice-tongs,  and 
dashes  at  the  camera  again.  Here,  with  a  piece 
of  discolored  velvet  over  his  head,  he  bombards 
you  in  this  manner :  "  Your  chin  out  a  little, 
please."  The  chin  is  protruded.  "  That's  nicely : 
now  a  little  more."  The  chin  advances  again ; 
and  the  pomade  commences  to  melt,  and  start  for 
freedom.  Then  he  comes  back  to  you,  and  slaps 
one  of  your  hands  on  your  leg  in  such  a  position 
as  to  give  you  the  appearance  of  trying  to  lift  it 
over  your  head.  The  other  is  turned  under  itself, 
and  has  become  so  sweaty,  that  you  begin  to  fear 
that  it  will  stick  there  permanently.  A  new 
stream  of  pomade  finds  its  way  out.  and  starts 
downward.  Then  he  shakes  your  head  in  the  tongs 
till  it  settles  right,  and  says  it  looks  like  rain,  and 
puts  your  chin  out  again,  and  punches  out  your 
chest,  and  says  he  doesn't  know  what  the  poor  are 
to  do  next  winter,  unless  there  is  a  radical  change 
in  affairs  ;  and  then  takes  the  top  of  your  head  in 
one  hand,  and  your  chin  in  the  other,  and  gives 
your  neck   a  wrench    that  would    earn    any  other 


226  AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 

man  a  prominent  position  in  a  new  hospital.  Then 
he  runs  his  hand  through  your  hair,  and  scratches 
your  scalp,  and  steps  back  to  the  camera  and  the 
injured  velvet  for  another  look.  By  this  time,  new 
sweat  and  pomade  have  started  out.  The  whites 
of  your  eyes  show  unpleasantly ;  and  your  whole 
body  feels  as  if  it  had  been  visited  by  an  enor- 
mous cramp,  and  another  and  much  bigger  one 
was  momentarily  expected.  Then  he  points  at 
something  for  you  to  look  at ;  tells  you  to  look 
cheerful  and  composed  ;  and  snatches  away  the 
velvet,  and  pulls  out  his  watch.  When  he  gets 
tired,  and  you  feel  as  if  there  was  but  very  little 
left  in  this  world  to  live  for,  he  restores  the  velvet, 
says  it  is  an  unfavorable  day  for  a  picture,  but  he 
hopes  for  the  best,  and  immediately  disappears  in 
his  den.  Then  you  get  up  and  stretch  yourself, 
slap  on  your  hat,  and  immediately  sneak  home, 
feeling  mean,  humbled,  and  altogether  too  wretched 
for  description.  The  first  friend  who  sees  the  pic- 
ture says  he  can  see  enough  resemblance  to  make 
certain  that  it  is  you  ;  but  you  have  tried  to  look 
too  formal  to  be  natural  and  graceful. 


AN    ABUSED     BOY. 


You   can  always  tell  a  boy  whose  mother  cuts 
his  hair.     Not  because  the  edges  of  it  look  as  if  it 


AN    ABUSED     BOY.  227 

had  been  chewed  off  by  an  absent-minded  horse ; 
but  you  tell  it  by  the  way  he  stops  on  the  street 
and  wriggles  his  shoulders.  When  a  fond  mother 
has  to  cut  her  boy's  hair,  she  is  careful  to  guard 
against  any  annoyance  and  muss  by  laying  a  sheet 
on  the  carpet.  It  has  never  yet  occurred  to  her 
to  sit  him  over  a  bare  floor,  and  put  the  sheet 
around  his  neck.  Then  she  draws  the  front  hair 
over  his  eyes,  and  leaves  it  there  while  she  cuts 
that  which  is  at  the  back.  The  hair  which  lies 
over  his  eyes  appears  to  be  surcharged  with  elec- 
tric needles,  and  that  which  is  silently  dropping 
down  under  his  shirt-band  appears  to  be  on  fire. 
She  has  unconsciously  continued  to  push  his  head 
forward  until  his  nose  presses  his  breast,  and  is 
too  busily  engaged  to  notice  the  snuffling  sound 
that  is  becoming  alarmingly  frequent.  In  the 
mean  time,  he  is  seized  with  an  irresistible  desire 
to  blow  his  nose,  but  recollects  that  his  handker- 
chief is  in  the  other  room.  Then  a  fly  lights  on 
his  nose,  and  does  it  so  unexpectedly,  that  he  in- 
voluntarily dodges,  and  catches  the  points  of  the 
shears  in  his  left  ear.  At  this  he  commences  to 
cry,  and  wish  he  was  a  man.  But  his  mother 
doesn't  notice  him.  She  merely  hits  him  on  the 
other  ear  to  inspire  him  with  confidence,  and  goes 
on  with  the  work.  When  she  is  through,  she  holds 
his  jacket-collar  back  from  his  neck,  and  with  her 
mouth  blows  the  short  bits  of  hair  from  the  toj:)  of 


228  AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 

his  head  down  his  back.  He  calls  her  attention  to 
this  fact  ;  but  she  looks  for  a  new  place  on  his  head, 
and  hits  him  there,  and  asks  him  why  he  didn't  use 
his  handkerchief.  Then  he  takes  his  awfully  dis- 
figured head  to  the  mirror,  and  looks  at  it,  and, 
young  as  he  is,  shudders  as  he  thinks  of  what 
the  boys  on  the  street  will  say. 


THE     NEW-ENGLAND     FESTIVAL. 

There  is  no  day  so  dear  to  New  England  as 
Thanksgiving.  It  is  the  event  of  the  year  in  the 
home-circle.  On  that  day  the  family  is  united,  if 
possible  to  come  together.  The  married  son  with 
his  wife  and  children  are  there ;  the  married  daugh- 
ter with  her  husband  and  children  are  there  too  ; 
and  the  respective  grandchildren  make  it  hot  for 
the  proud  and  happy  grand-parents,  and  very 
nearly  eat  them  out  of  house  and  home,  as  it  were. 
The  unmarried  daughter  comes  home  from  school, 
bringing  a  companion  with  her ;  and  the  nephews 
and  nieces  are  astonished  at  the  magnitude  of  the 
bustles  and  the  number  of  hair-pins  these  two 
bring  with  them.  But  the  chief  object  in  the 
home-circle  to  the  old  folks  is  the  unmarried  son, 
the  son  of  their  declining  years,  —  the  boy-clerk  in 
New  York.  He  comes  home  to  the  old  roof-tree 
young,  fresh,  and  hopeful.     He  has  not  yet  devel- 


THE    NEW-ENGLAND     FESTIVAL.  229 

oped  ;  and  all  the  hopes  of  his  parents  are  centred, 
founded  as  a  rock,  upon  his  future.  He  arrives 
the  evening  before,  takes  a  hearty  supper,  and  goes 
out  to  look  up  a  billiard-room.  Thanksgiving  Day, 
to  be  natural,  should  come  and  go  with  a  sunless, 
leaden  sky.  The  family,  having  retired  late,  rise 
late.  Not  much  breakfast  is  eaten  in  a  New-Eng- 
land home.  The  meeting  of  those  long  separated, 
the  feeling  of  reverence  and  gratitude  peculiar  to 
the  day's  observance,  the  haste  to  get  to  church, 
and  the  fact  that  a  dinner  calculated  to  tax  every 
facility  of  the  stomach  will  soon  be  served,  tend  to 
make  the  breakfast  a  hasty  and  imperfect  meal. 
That  dinner  is  a  spectacle.  The  room  is  enlivened 
by  suitable  decorations.  The  table  is  set  out  with 
the  best  plate  and  ware.  The  cooking  is  simply 
splendid.  The  variety  of  food  is  almost  unlimited. 
Every  chair  is  occupied.  Every  heart  shows  its 
gladness  in  the  beaming  face  and  bright  eye. 
Home  again  !  —  home  with  the  self-sacrificing  and 
generous  father,  —  home  with  the  dear  mother's 
cooking  steaming  deliciously  in  every  nostril. 
Heaven  bless  her !  What  an  awful  mockery 
Thanksgiving  dinner  would  be  without  her  !  How 
her  eyes  shine  as  she  looks  from  the  well-appointed 
board  to  the  enjoying  ones  surrounding  it !  —  bone 
of  her  bone,  and  flesh  of  her  flesh.  What  fun 
there  is  at  that  table !  How  everybody  praises  the 
cooking !  and  how  greasy  and  shiny  are  the  chubby 


230  AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 

faces  of  the  grand-children !  They  do  not  under- 
stand fully  the  significance  of  the  feast ;  but  they 
are  happy  in  the  midst  of  its  vapors  and  odors,  and 
intend  to  have  the  wish-bone,  if  they  have  to  smash 
an  own  brother  or  sister  flat  with  the  earth.  Ah, 
happy  father !  years  have  come  and  gone  since 
this  home  was  founded.  And  how  it  has  grown  ! 
There  is  moisture  in  his  eye,  and  a  tremor  to  his 
lip,  as  he  looks  over  the  glad  faces  about  him  to 
see  —  who  of  that  band  so  dear  to  him  may  be  out 
of  gravy  or  "  stuffin'."  Ah !  it  seems  to  us  that  we 
could  knock  the  stuffing  out  of  any  man  who  could 
look  with  an  evil  eye  upon  such  a  scene. 

But  the  dinner  draws  to  a  close,  precious  as 
its  associations  are ;  and  each  guest,  with  several 
pounds  of  food  in  his  or  her  stomach,  held  down  by 
a  quarter  of  mince-pie,  withdraws  from  the  table, 
and  carefully  fondles  his  or  her  stomach  surrepti- 
tiously and  uneasily.  The  afternoon  wanes  apace. 
The  unmarried  daughter  shows  her  married  sisters 
how  to  do  up  their  back-hair  in  the  latest  style, 
and  tells  of  the  number  of  pieces  of  underclothing 
it  is  now  necessary  to  have,  with  other  information 
too  subtle  for  the  masculine  comprehension.  The 
men-folks  arc-  off  about  town,  looking  at  the  im- 
provements, and  enjoying  memories  of  the  past 
and  the  gripes  all  to  themselves. 

And  then  comes  the  night,  and  with  its  deepen- 
ing shadows  the  re-united  family  are  beneath  the 


SHE    GOT    THAT    CHICKEN     HERSELF.        23I 

old  roof-tree.  The  day  is  spent ;  and  the  morrow 
will  see  them  speeding  on  their  different  ways,  — 
that  morrow,  which  comes  whether  we  will  or  not, 
when  every  one  returns  to  his  own,  leaving  behind 
him  the  dear  old  home  and  a  warmed-up  turkey. 
To-morrow  the  family  must  dissolve  into  its  respec- 
tive fractions  ;  but  they  are  together  now,  and  no 
dread  of  the  morrow  shall  mar  the  silent  joy.  And 
the  night  has  come.  It  has  been  a  day  of  pleasure, 
a  day  of  rejoicing,  a  day  of  glad  memories,  a  day  of 
praise,  a  day  of  thanksgiving ;  and  as  night  broods 
over  the  home,  and  one  after  another  the  dear  ones 
awake,  and  scream  for  the  camphor,  and  chew  ner- 
vously at  bits  of  sweet-flag,  they  all  realize  the 
wonderful  significance  of  the  day.  Heaven  be  mer- 
ciful to  the  home  that  has  no  Thanksgiving,  no 
glad  memories,  no  camphor,  no  sweet-flag  ! 


SHE    GOT    THAT    CHICKEN    HERSELF. 

It  is  just  as  necessary  to  have  poultry  for  a 
Thanksgiving  dinner  as  it  is  to  have  light.  A  Dan- 
bury  couple  named  Brigham  were  going  to  have 
poultry  for  their  dinner.  Mr.  Brigham  said  to  his 
wife  the  day  before  the  event,  — 

"  I  saw  some  splendid  chickens  in  front  of  Mer- 
rill's store  to-day  ;  and  I  guess  I'll  get  one  of  them 
this  afternoon  for  to-morrow." 


232  AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 

"  I  am  going  to  tend  to  that  myself,"  said  Mrs. 
Brigham  quickly. 

"  But  I  can  get  it  just  as  well :  I'm  going  right 
by  there." 

"I  don't  want  you  to  get  it,"  she  asserted. 
"  When  I  eat  chicken,  I  want  something  I  can  put 
my  teeth  in."  And  a  hard  look  came  into  her 
face. 

He  colored  up  at  once. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  " 

"  Just  what  I  say,"  she  explained,  setting  her 
teeth  together. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  I  don't  know  how  to  pick 
out  a  chicken  .-* "  he  angrily  demanded. 

"  I  do." 

"Well,  I  can  just  tell  you,  Mary  Ann  Brigham, 
that  I  know  more  about  chickens  in  one  minute 
than  you  could  ever  find  out  in  a  lifetime  ;  and, 
furthermore,  I  am  going  to  buy  that  chicken,  if  one 
is  bought  at  all  in  this  house."  And  he  struck  the 
table  with  his  fist. 

"  And  I  tell  you,  John  Joyce  Brigham,"  she  cried, 
"that  you  don't  know  any  more  how  to  pick  out  a 
good  chicken  than  an  unweaned  mud-turtle  ;  and,  if 
you  bring  a  chicken  in  this  house,  it  will  go  out 
again  quicker'n  it  come  in  ;  and  you  can  put  that 
in  your  pipe  an'  smoke  it  as  soon  as  you  want  to." 

"  Whose  house  is  this,  I  want  to  know  ?  "  he 
fiercely  demanded. 


SHE    GOT    THAT    CHICKEN     HERSELF.        233 

She  frankly  replied  at  once,  — 

"I  suppose  it  belongs  to  a  flat-head  idiot  with 
a  wart  on  his  nose.  But  a  woman  who  knows  a 
spring  chicken  from  a  hump-back  camel  is  running 
the  establishment ;  and,  as  long  as  she  does,  he  can't 
bring  no  patent-leather  hens  here  to  be  cooked." 

"  You'll  see  what  I'll  do ! "  he  yelled ;  and  he 
pulled  his  coat  on,  and  jammed  his  cap  on  his  head, 
with  the  forepiece  over  his  left  ear. 

"You  bring  a  chicken  here  if  you  think  best. 
Mister  Brigham,"  she  replied. 

"  You  see  if  I  don't !  "  he  growled,  as  he  passed 
out,  and  slammed  the  door  behind  him. 

That  evening  there  was  a  nice,  fine  chicken  in 
the  pantry  :  but  he  didn't  bring  it.  Perhaps  he  for- 
got to  get  his. 

Dinner  came  the  next  day.  Mr.  Brigham  took 
his  seat  at  the  table  as  usual ;  but  it  was  evident 
that  he  intended  mischief.  Mrs.  Brigham  filled  a 
plate  with  chicken,  mashed  potatoes,  and  boiled 
onions.  It  was  a  tempting  dish,  emitting  a  delicious 
aroma.  She  passed  it  to  Mr.  Brigham.  He  did 
not  look  towards  it. 

"  Brigham,"  said  she,  "  here's  your  plate." 

"  I  don't  want  any  chicken,"  he  said,  looking 
nervously  around  the  room. 

"  Are  you  going  to  eat  that  chicken  .-' "  she  de- 
manded in  a  voice  of  low  intensity. 

"  No,  I  ain't.      Wooh  !  ouch  !  ooh  !  " 


234  AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 

She  had  sprung  to  her  feet  in  a  flash,  reached 
over  the  table,  caught  him  by  the  hair,  and  had  his 
face  burrowing  in  the  dish  of  hot  onions.  It  was 
done  so  quick,  that  he  had  no  time  to  save  himself, 
and  barely  time  to  give  utterance  to  the  agonizing 
exclamations  which  followed  upon  his  declaration. 

"  Are  you  going  to  eat  that  chicken  ? "  she 
hoarsely  demanded. 

"  Lemme  up  ! "  he  screamed. 

She  raised  his  head  from  the  dish,  and  jammed 
it  on  the  table. 

"  John  Joyce  Brigham,"  she  hissed  between  her 
set  teeth,  "  this  is  a  day  set  apart  by  the  nation  for 
thanksgiving  and  praise.  I  got  that  chicken  to 
celebrate  this  day,  and  I  ain't  going  to  have  my 
gratitude  and  devotion  upset  by  such  a  runt  as  you 
are.  Now  I  want  to  know  if  you  are  going  to  eat 
that  chicken  like  a  Christian,  or  if  you  are  going  to 
cut  up  like  a  rantankerous  heathen.  Answer  me 
at  once,  or  I'll  jam  your  old  skull  into  a  jelly." 

"I  —  I'll  eat  it !  "  he  moaned. 

Then  she  let  him  up,  and  he  took  his  plate ;  and 
one  Thanksgiving  meal,  at  least,  passed  off  harmo- 
niously. 


THE    SQUIGGSES     ARE    GRATEFUL, 

Thanksgiving  is    strictly  a  New-England  day. 
Its    relio-ious   element    makes    it  harmonious  with 


THE    SqUIGGSES    ARE    GRATEFUL.  235 

the  well-known  sentiment  of  New  England.  It  is 
a  day  for  feasting,  and  giving  thanks  unto  God  for 
his  care  and  love  during  the  year  ;  and  was  observed 
by  the  Squiggses,  a  representative  family,  in  an 
eminently  characteristic  manner.  They  had  chick- 
en for  dinner.  Mr.  Squiggs  won  the  chicken  the 
night  before  at  a  raffle.  The  day  dawned  auspi- 
ciously. The  young  Squiggses,  three  in  number, 
after  a  late  breakfast,  went  out  to  slide  on  the  ice. 
Mr.  Squiggs  proceeded  to  fix  up  a  length  in  the 
back-fence,  which  had  needed  repair  for  several 
weeks.  Mrs.  Squiggs  busied  herself  with  the  affairs 
of  the  house,  in  the  intricacies  of  which  she  was 
soon  completely  submerged.  When  the  church- 
bells  pealed  forth  their  glad  notes,  calling  a  grate- 
ful people  to  the  temple  of  a  merciful  God  to  wor- 
ship him  for  his  goodness,  Mr.  Squiggs  was  trying 
to  saw  a  barrel  in  two  for  a  chicken-coop,  and  was 
carrying  on  like  a  corsair  because  of  the  eccentri- 
city of  the  saw  ;  and  Mrs.  Squiggs  was  disembow- 
elling the  chicken.  At  half-past  twelve,  when  the 
worshippers  were  coming  from  church,  Mr.  Squiggs 
was  beating  the  soot  out  of  a  length  of  stove-pipe  ; 
and  Mrs.  Squiggs  was  sweeping  out  the  parlor,  or 
"  front-room  "  as  the  Squiggses  called  it.  The  three 
little  Squiggses,  with  appetites  like  a  shark,  had 
returned  from  the  sliding  on  the  ice,  being  driven 
therefrom  by  hunger,  and  were  huddled  about  the 
kitchen-fire,  with  a  dreadful  heart-sick  look  in  their 


236  AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 

faces,  produced  by  the  dinner-hour,  when  there  is 
no  visible  prospect  of  a  dinner  at  hand.  The  kitch- 
en was  all  confusion  ;  the  "front-room  "  was  cold, 
and  floating  with  dust,  in  which  Mrs.  Squiggs  ap- 
peared like  a  being  of  mythology,  with  red  arms, 
and  a  towel  wrapped  about  her  head  ;  the  air  out- 
side was  cold  and  cheerless  in  the  contemplation  of 
an  empty  stomach  ;  and  the  blows  on  the  stove- 
pipe sounded  most  dismally.  About  three  o'clock 
P.M.,  the  dinner  was  served.  The  little  Squiggses, 
having  been  cuffed  alongside  the  head  by  their  im- 
patient father,  and  walked  over  several  times  by 
the  hurrying  mother,  were  in  an  active  condition 
for  an  onslaught  on  the  meal,  and  fell  to  work  in  a 
most  vehement  manner.  The  father,  who  had 
omitted  to  ask  God  to  bless  the  food,  or  to  thank 
him  for  his  mercies,  said  they  acted  like  hogs.  This 
was  a  harsh  criticism  ;  but  it  had  no  visible  effect 
on  their  enthusiasm.  When  the  meal  was  over, 
the  three  boys  slid  out  for  the  pond,  —  their  faces 
shining  with  the  friction  of  the  feast,  —  the  father 
went  out  to  hunt  up  some  bits  of  board  for  a  coal- 
bin,  and  the  mother  went  to  work  to  "  clear  up." 
Late  in  the  afternoon  the  boys  returned,  having 
succeeded  in  swapping  off  a  three-wheeled  wagon 
for  a  quart  of  walnuts.  In  the  evening  the  father 
went  down  to  the  saloon  and  lost  seventy-five  cents 
at  raffling,  and  about  ten  o'clock  returned.  The 
boys,  having  had  a  good  time,  were  lying  on  the 


MR.   COBLEIGH    LOOKS   AFTER  THE   BREAD.    237 

floor  close  to  the  stove,  asleep  ;  and  the  mother  was 
busy  letting  in  a  square  of  dark  cloth  into  the 
rotunda  of  a  pair  of  light  pants.  With  the  memory 
of  his  losses  still  upon  him,  the  father  intimated 
to  the  boys,  with  his  boot-toes,  that  it  was  time  to 
retire,  which  they  did.  Then  he  pulled  off  his 
boots,  and  moved  around  in  his  stocking-feet,  occa- 
sionally pausing  to  make  some  vivid  observation  on 
nut-shells,  preceded  by  that  simple  but  fervent  ex- 
pression, — 

"  Ouch  ! " 

Shortly  after,  the  twain  retired  ;  and  thus  closed 
a  day  set  apart  for  rejoicing  and  thankfulness  be- 
fore God, 


MR.  COBLEIGH  LOOKS  AFTER  THE  BREAD. 

Mrs.  Cobleigh  had  to  run  over  to  a  neighbor's 
to  see  about  pickling  some  green  tomatoes.  She 
had  a  loaf  of  bread  in  the  oven  ;  and  she  told  Cob- 
leigh to  take  care  of  it.  Mr.  Cobleigh  was  home 
with  a  boil  on  his  knee.  She  said,  "  It  won't  be 
any  trouble  to  you.  In  about  fifteen  minutes,  it 
will  be  done  at  this  end  ;  and  then  you  turn  it 
around  so  that  the  other  can  bake.  I'll  be  back  in 
time  to  take  it  out." 

Then  she  threw  a  shawl  over  her  head,  and 
started.  About  five  minutes  after  she  was  gone, 
one  of  the  neighbors  came  in  to  show  Mr.  Cob- 


258  AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 

leigh  a  double-barrelled  gun  which  he  had  just 
bought.  After  Mr.  Cobleigh  had  carefully  exam- 
ined it,  and  held  it  up,  and  aimed  at  imaginary 
game  with  it,  he  was  forcibly  reminded  of  a  gun 
which  his  father  owned  when  Cobleigh  was  a  boy, 
and  when  the  family  were  living  in  Sandersville. 
There  were  a  number  of  astonishing  incidents  con- 
nected with  this  remarkable  fowling-piece,  which 
Cobleigh  proceeded  to  relate  in  a  vivid  and  capti- 
vating manner.  Suddenly  the  neighbor  snuffed  up 
his  nose,  and  hastily  observed, — 

"  I  say,  what's  the  matter  here  ?  Any  thing 
afire .? " 

Cobleigh  glanced  at  the  stove,  and  then  at  the 
clock,  while  his  face  became  pallid. 

"By  Jove!"  he  ejaculated,  "my  wife  told  me  tO 
look  at  that  bread  in  fifteen  minutes  ;  and  she's 
been  gone  over  a  half-hour.  That's  what's  burn- 
ing." And  Cobleigh,  with  an  expression  of  genu- 
ine distress,  essayed  to  rise ;  but  the  neighbor 
promptly  came  to  his  relief. 

"  Let  me  tend  to  it ;  you  can't  get  around  easily," 
he  said. 

He  opened  the  oven-door,  and  a  puff  of  smoke 
came  out. 

"  It's  a  goner,  I'm  afraid,"  he  said,  dropping  on 
his  knees. 

It  appeared  to  be  so.  Two-thirds  of  the  loaf 
was  as  black  as  the  ace  of  spades  ;  and  there  were 


MR.   COBLEIGH    LOOKS   AFTER   THE   BREAD.    239 

little  flakes  of  live  coal  scattered  over  its  surface. 
With  that  impulsive,  trusting  nature  peculiar  to 
a  man,  the  sympathetic  neighbor  thrust  his  hand 
into  the  oven,  and  laid  hold  of  that  blazing,  baking 
tin  without  the  faintest  hesitation.  Then  he  drew 
out  his  hand,  with  the  awfullest  howl  ever  heard  on 
that  street,  and  — 

Poor  Mr.  Cobleigh !  In  his  anxiety  for  the 
bread,  and  sympathy  for  his  wife,  he  had  approached 
to  the  rear  of  his  friend,  and  was  looking  over  his 
shoulder  at  the  ruin,  when  the  astonished  arm  was 
swung  back  ;  and  the  owner  thereof  instantly  lost 
sight  of  his  own  misery  in  the  terrific  yell  which 
ascended  just  behind  him.  The  arm  struck  an 
obstacle ;  and  the  unfortunate  Mr.  Cobleigh  rolled 
over  on  the  floor,  screaming  with  all  his  might,  — 

"  You've  busted  it  !  O  heavens  !  you've  busted 
it!" 

It  was  an  anguish  no  mortal  words  could  allay. 
The  neighbor  saw  this  at  a  glance  :  so  he  picked 
up  his  gun,  and  silently  scudded  home.  A  mo- 
ment later,  Mrs.  Cobleigh  came  in  ;  and  the 
instant  she  opened  the  door,  Mr.  Cobleigh  ceased 
his  moans,  scrambled  to  his  feet,  and  stalked  majes- 
tically to  their  bedroom,  where  he  locked  the  door, 
and  put  the  bureau  against  it.  Three  minutes 
later,  Mrs.  Cobleigh  knocked  at  the  door  for  admit- 
tance ;  but  of  course  it  was  not  opened. 

Then  she  put  her  mouth  to  the  keyhole,  and 
shouted,  — 


24°  AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 

"  I  wouldn't  make  a  fool  of  myself,  if  I  was  you, 
John  Cobleigh.  It  is  a  great  pity  I  can  V  be  gone  otit 
of  this  house  A  SINGLE  MINUTE,  bitt  that  the  ivhole 
place  has  got  to  be  turned  upside  down,  and  things 
go  to  ruin!' 

She  actually  said  that. 


The  quilting-season  is  upon  us.  The  frames  are 
up  stairs  in  the  garret,  with  the  nails  conspicuously 
standing  out  in  them.  The  man  of  the  house 
brings  them  down.  It  takes  about  an  hour  to 
bring  down  a  set  of  quilting-frames  in  a  proper 
manner.  In  the  first  place,  they  have  to  be  got  out 
from  under  five  barrels,  two  trunks,  and  an  assort- 
ment of  boxes  ;  and  it's  wonderful  the  quality  of 
tenacity  one  nail  possesses  when  it  gets  caught 
under  some  object  you  cannot  see.  The  frames 
catch  against  the  chimney,  or  entangle  with  the 
rafters  ;  while  there  is  never  any  unity  between 
them  in  descending  a  narrow  stairway.  No  one 
really  knows  how  a  man  gets  down  stairs  with  a 
set  of  quilting-frames  ;  but  anybody  not  irredeem- 
ably deaf  knows  that  it  is  being  done,  if  on  the 
same  street  with  the  performance.  Then  the  frame 
is  bolstered  up  on  chairs  in  the  best  room,  and  the 
long  arms  stick  out,  and  catch  the  unwary  hus- 
band in  his  clothes,  and,  in  turn,  are  dropped  to  the 
floor  just  as  the  weary  wife  is   about    to   take   a 


HOUSE-CLEANING.  241 

stitch  ;  and  the  remarks  she  makes  as  the  quilt 
suddenly  collapses  are  calculated  to  instantane- 
ously transform  his  scalp  into  a  parade-ground. 
Four  pounds  of  cotton-batting  are  required  on 
this  occasion  :  three  and  a  half  pounds  go  into 
the  quilt,  and  the  other  half-pound  he  carries 
around  with  him  on  his  clothes. 


The  dining-room  stove  is  not  up  yet,  of  course. 
It  is  a  little  too  early,  and  the  cleaning  is  not  yet 
done :  besides,  the  heat  from  the  kitchen-fire  is  a 
great  help,  as  you  will  perceive  while  turning  up 
the  sleeves  to  your  overcoat,  so  as  not  to  get  them 
in  the  breakfast  coffee. 


HOUSE-CLEANING. 

A  WOMAN  feels  as  if  she  has  missed  her  destiny 
in  some  way  if  she  has  not  arranged  the  cleaning- 
season  so  as  to  take  in  one  wet,  miserable  Sunday. 

There  is  not  a  woman  living  who  has  the  hon- 
esty to  admit  she  likes  to  clean  house.  She  real- 
izes just  how  despicable  it  is,  just  how  much  misery 
it  inflicts  on  those  about  her.  That  is  the  reason 
she  dare  not  come  out  openly  before  the  world,  and 
boldly  confess  what  is  really  a  fact. 


:42  AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 


No  stove  is  to  be  put  up  until  the  house  is 
cleaned  :  it  is  immaterial  what  the  weather  is. 
And,  in  the  week  the  rejuvenating  is  going  on,  a 
man  has  more  misery  thrust  upon  him,  and  driven 
into  him,  and  filtered  through  him,  than  it  would 
seem  possible  for  one  human  being  to  hold. 

What  strikes  a  man  as  being  almost  supernatu- 
rally  remarkable  is  the  fact  that  house-cleaning  and 
the  line-storm  invariably  strike  the  earth  at  one 
and  the  same  time.  He  can't  very  well  protest 
against  the  heavens  ;  and  he  well  knows  there  is 
no  earthly  use  of  arguing  the  matter  with  his  wife. 

It  has  been  satisfactorily  demonstrated,  that, 
when  a  man  steps  on  a  bar  of  soap  which  has  been 
left  on  the  top  step,  it  will  start  down  stairs  with 
him,  and,  though  having  much  the  best  start,  will 
yet  be  overtaken  and  passed  by  him  before  it  gets 
half  way  down.  This  sounds  almost  like  an  East- 
ern allegory  ;  but  every  married  man  knows  it  is 
true. 

There  is  a  fire  in  the  kitchen,  —  a  good  fire.  If 
the  man  of  the  house  feels  cold,  why  don't  he  go 
in  there  ?  It  is  a  good  place,  is  the  kitchen.  Every 
fly  in  the  family  is  in  there  to  receive  him,  and  sing 
to  him,  and  prance  around  with  him.  The  table  is 
loaded  with  fly-specked  dishes  ;  and  there  is  a  four- 


HOUSE-CLEANING.  243 

gallon  pail  of  boiling  water  on  the  stove,  and  mop- 
cloths  and  white-wash  pails  and  tinware  on  the 
floor,  with  a  poorly  discriminating  girl  with  red 
arms  diving  to  and  fro  with  a  pan  of  hot  water  in 
her  hands.  It  is  a  little  singular  that  the  half- 
frozen  and  wholly  crazed  man  does  not  take  to  the 
kitchen  for  comfort. 

Shaking  a  carpet  is  a  feature  of  house-cleaning 
which  thoroughly  enlists  the  attention  of  the  man 
of  the  house.  It  is  done  after  dinner.  The  reason 
the  woman  selects  this  time  is  because  he  is 
dressed,  and  has  to  go  back  to  business  again 
without  a  chance  to  change  his  clothes.  He  car- 
ries the  carpet  out  doors.  It  is  not  rolled  up  ;  it 
is  in  a  wad  shape  :  and  he  gathers  it  up  in  his  arms, 
and  starts  for  the  door,  with  one  end  of  the  carpet 
dragging  between  his  feet.  He  scorns  to  stop  and 
roll  it  up.  He  has  got  his  arms  full.  It  presses 
into  his  bosom,  and  leaves  rifts  of  sand  and  grit  on 
his  shirt-front  ;  it  bulges  into  his  face,  hot  and 
dusty,  and  fills  his  mouth  and  nose  and  eyes.  Then 
the  long  end  gets  under  one  foot  as  he  is  going 
down  the  back-stoop,  and  the  other  foot  mounts 
up  the  breadth ;  and  he  stumbles,  but  catches  him- 
self, and  prevents  falling  to  the  ground  on  his  face 
by  deliberately  yet  blindly  jumping  off  the  stoop. 
He  finally  gets  the  carpet  on  the  line.  It  is  very 
warm.      There  is  a  breeze  from  the  west.       He 


244  AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 

Steps  on  the  west  side  of  the  carpet,  and  hits  it  a 
lick  with  a  stick  :  instantly  the  wind  turns  sharp 
around  to  the  east,  and  he  is  ingulfed  in  dust.  He 
darts  around  to  the  east  side,  and  hits  it  another 
lick  :  the  wind  veers  around  to  the  west  simulta- 
neously ;  and  he  is  plunged  into  a  sneezing-fit, 
which  seriously  threatens  to  dislocate  his  neck. 
Then  he  pauses,  and  looks  around  uneasily.  He 
sees  that  a  carpet  has  the  same  effect  on  the  wind 
as  a  sieveful  of  coal-ashes,  and  he  doesn't  under- 
stand it.  He  gets  a  clothes-pole,  and  stands 
around  at  the  north  end,  and  hits  the  carpet  a  ter- 
rible rap  :  the  wind  promptly  sails  around  to  the 
south,  and  catches  him  full  in  the  face  with  a  pint 
of  dust  before  the  pole  has  fairly  left  the  carpet. 
He  doesn't  stop  to  reason  now :  he  would  be  a 
jackass  if  he  did.  He  grasps  the  pole  with  all  his 
might,  and  madly  smashes  it  against  the  carpet, 
and  dances  around  the  line,  and  coughs,  and 
sneezes,  and  swears.  After  that,  it  is  pulled  down  ; 
and  the  hired  girl,  with  the  strength  of  an  ox, 
takes  hold  of  an  end  with  him,  and  they  proceed 
to  shake  it.  His  hands  are  in  blisters  across  the 
palms  ;  and  his  fingers,  aching  with  the  grasp  on 
the  pole,  can  seem  to  find  no  hold  on  the  woof  and 
warp.  At  every  other  shake  they  glide  off,  start- 
ing the  nails,  and  causing  his  arms  to  tingle  clear 
to  the  elbows  ;  and,  every  time  he  picks  up  that 
carpet,  he  does  it  with  renewed  energy  and  a  weaker 


HOUSE-CLEANING.  245 

backbone.  The  most  we  can  hope  for  a  man  in 
this  position  is,  that  he  is  not  a  deacon  of  a  church, 
and  the  hired  girl  a  member  of  it. 

No  words  can  satisfactorily  paint  the  bleakness, 
the  dreariness,  the  dejection,  the  awful  gloom,  of  a 
house  being  cleaned.  The  windows  are  out ;  the 
carpets  are  up ;  and  the  dining-room  table  is  full  of 
dishes.  Every  other  chair  contains  either  a  basin 
of  water  or  a  wet  cloth  or  brush.  The  air  is  perme- 
ated with  soap  and  wet  and  mould  and  new  white- 
wash. All  the  furniture  is  piled  promiscuously  in 
the  centre  of  the  rooms,  excepting  what  is  left  in 
a  heap  in  the  hall.  In  front  of  the  bed-room  closet- 
door  is  a  rocking-chair  full  of  bed-clothes ;  and, 
when  the  man  wants  to  get  there  after  an  old  coat, 
he  has  to  climb  and  shove  to  get  the  door  open, 
and,  after  once  in,  he  has  to  push  like  a  battering- 
ram  to  get  out  again.  The  pictures  are  arranged 
on  the  floor,  leaning  against  the  walls  in  a  way  to 
catch  the  unwary  boot-heel  and  unthinking  bed- 
post. There  is  a  saucer  of  rusty  tacks  on  the  tete' 
a-tetc,  and  a  besmeared  bottle  of  balsam  on  the* 
what-not,  and  an  empy  ink-bottle  in  the  card-bas- 
ket ;  while  the  marble  top  centre-table  contains  an 
album,  a  piece  of  dried  soap,  an  elegant  lithographs 
one  tack-hammer,  a  half-can  of  potash,  a  beauti' 
ful  scriptural  motto  on  cardboard,  and  ninety-seven 
dead   flies.      It   is  this  general  upsetedness,  this 


246  AUTUMN     IN     DANBURY. 

awful  conglomeration,  this  dreadful  uncertainty, 
which  gives  the  home-circle  its  glow  of  terror  to  a 
man.  This  is  what  makes  him  move  around  as 
little  as  possible  in  the  house,  and  causes  him 
every  other  moment  to  smite  his  head,  and  gives 
him  the  vacant  expression  always  inseparable  with 
the  face  of  a  man  whose  wife  is  cleaning  house. 
And  she —  is  she  in  pain  }  She  has  got  on  a  torn 
dress,  hitched  up  at  one  side  sufficiently  to  reveal 
an  unbuttoned  shoe  ;  there  are  flakes  of  white- 
wash in  her  hair  and  on  her  chin  ;  her  dress  is 
wet ;  her  fingers  are  parboiled,  and  her  thumb  has 
been  split  with  a  hammer  :  but  her  eye  is  as  clear 
and  bright  as  that  of  a  major-general  on  field-day. 
She  picks  up  a  handful  of  skirts,  and  skims 
through  the  apartments,  seeing  five  hundred  things 
which  should  be  done  at  once,  and  trying  to  do 
them  ;  and  every  time  she  comes  in  reach  of  the 
dresser  she  snatches  a  look  into  the  glass,  and 
shoves  a  fresh  hair-pin  into  her  dilapidated  coil. 
And  thus  planted  in  the  debris,  like  a  queen  on 
her  throne,  she  unblushingly  asserts  that  "  It's  an 
awful  job  ;  "  "  Every  thing  is  in  wretched  shape ;" 
"  I'll  be  so  glad  when  this  is  over !  "  "  It  does 
seem  as  if  my  back  will  snap  in  two;"  "I'm  a 
good  mind  to  say  I'll  never  clean  house  again  as 
long  as  I  live."  And  then  her  mind  unconsciously 
soars  heavenward,  and  she  wonders  if  there  will 
be  a  house-cleaning  season  there,  and,  if  not,  how  a 


HOUSE-CLEANING.  247 

heaven  can  be  made  of  it.  It  is  this  speculation 
which  gives  her  that  dreamy  expression  when  she 
is  cutting  your  bread  with  the  soap-knife. 

Just  such  weather  as  this  instils  new  life  and 
animation  into  a  man,  and  is  apt  to  make  him  frol- 
icsome. It  stimulates  him  to  racing,  jumping  up 
and  down,  clapping  his  hands,  and  feeling  good 
generally  It  so  stimulated  one  of  our  merchants 
on  Friday  evening,  and  led  him  to  invite  his  wife 
to  catch  him  before  he  got  round  to  the  back- 
stoop.  He  started  on  a  smart  run  ;  and  she  bore 
down  after  him  at  a  creditable  speed.  He  tore 
around  the  corner  very  much  in  earnest,  and,  step- 
ping on  a  piece  of  ice,  swung  from  his  foothold, 
and  went  careening  across  ten  feet  of  frozen 
ground,  and  brought  up  with  considerable  force 
against  a  pear-tree,  —  a  new  variety,  we  believe. 
It  was  a  genial  spectacle  to  see  the  fond  wife 
pounce  on  him,  and  hear  her  gleeful  shouts  of  vic- 
tory as  he  struggled  madly  to  his  feet,  and  be- 
sought her  "  not  to  make  a  darn  fool  of  herself." 


1 


WINTER   IN    DANBURY. 


WINTER   IN    DANBURY. 


THE    LITTLE    MIGGSES'     CHRISTMAS. 

This  is  rather  late  for  a  Christmas  story ;  which 
is  one  reason  why  we  write  it.  The  names  are 
fictitious,  of  course.  However  much  we  may 
desire  to  cut  and  slash  our  fellow-men,  and  bruise 
their  hearts,  and  wrench  their  feelings,  we  succeed 
in  overcoming  it  now,  because  of  this  glad  holiday 
week  ;  and  with  the  influence  of  peace  on  earth, 
and  good-will  toward  men,  we  call  him  Miggs,  and 
call  them  Miggs.  So  their  name  is  Miggs,  and  they 
live  on  Nelson  Street. 

Nelson  Street !  What  a  world  of  pictures  the 
very  name  calls  up  to  us  !  We  close  our  eyes,  and 
the  quaint  avenue  appears  before  us.  We  see  two 
long  lines  of  houses,  in  all  conceivable  colors  for 
houses,  with  all  kinds  of  fences  in  front  of  them. 
And  from  the  doors  of  these  houses  come  broken- 
legged  men,  and  bandaged  men,  and  bad  men ; 
and  from  the  windows  peer  women,  —  comical 
women,  serious  women,  grotesque  women,  homely 

251 


252  WINTER     IN     DANBURY. 

women,  women  with  brooms,  and  women  with 
herbs,  and  women  with  advice ;  but  all  of  them, 
however- they  may  differ  in  appearance,  united  in 
screaming  after  the  men.  And  down  the  street  fly 
hens,  followed  by  coal  clinkers  ;  and  dogs  dragging 
tin  wareafter  them  ;  and  half-crazed  cows  swinging 
both  hind-legs  in  the  air  (as  cows  do  when  ex- 
cited); and  cats  with  backs  like  the  rainbow,  spit- 
ting and  yowling,  and  distressing  themselves. 

The  house  of  the  Miggses  is  a  brown  building, 
void  of  shutters  or  blinds.  It  is  one  of  several 
brown  buildings,  equally  bereft,  on  that  street.  It 
is  protected  at  the  front  with  a  slat  fence,  where 
the  slats  are  not  gone  ;  and  the  yard  at  the  front 
and  sides  is  strewn  with  a  little  of  such  refuse 
matter  as  is  customary  to  a  tenement-yard.  One 
would  think  the  Miggses  had  taken  a  coal-mine  for 
debt,  from  the  many  bits  of  wood  scattered  over 
the  premises,  and  fast  losiriig  their  individuality  in 
the  mud. 

The  Miggses  occupied  the  first  floor,  which  gave 
them  a  front-room  (which  was  also  a  sitting  and 
dining  room,  and  kitchen),  two  bed-rooms,  3nd  a 
pantry.  The  front-room  was  the  family  room. 
Here  were  a  greasy  stove  and  mantle  ornaments, 
a  dining-table,  a  red  chest,  several  odd  chairs  which 
looked  as  if  time  could  never  quite  obliterate  theii 
animosity  toward  each  other,  a  chromo  of  angels, 
and   a   startling  novelty  in  the  shape   of    a   stee! 


THE    LITTLE    M.IGGSES     CHRISTMAS.         253 

engraving  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 
There  were  other  things  of  minor  importance  in  the 
room  ;  but  these  we  have  enumerated  strike  the 
observer  most  prominently.  It  is  now  five  o'clock 
the  evening  before  Christmas.  Mrs.  Miggs,  sit- 
ting in  a  rocker,  and  looking  absently  at  her  foot 
is  holding  the  youngest  Miggs,  whose  head  is 
buried  in  her  bosom.  The  two  boy  Miggs,  hand 
in  hand,  are  on  the  street,  staring  with  all  their 
might  at  the  hurrying  people,  and  anon  pausing 
before  a  well-filled  and  brightly-lighted  window, 
and  devouring  the  sight.  When  we  find  them, 
they  are  in  front  of  the  leading  toy  and  confection- 
ery store.  Their  hands  do  not  now  hold  each, 
other,  but  are  pressed  on  their  breasts,  as  if  they 
would  keep  down  a  cry  that  could  not  otherwise  be 
suppressed.  They  were  common  enough  children. 
Robbie,  the  elder,  a  boy  of  eight  years,  had  a  white 
face,  with  big  watery  blue  eyes.  Jakey,  the  young- 
er, aged  seven,  had  a  white  face,  with  big  watery 
blue  eyes.  Both  of  them  had  light,  tawny  hair. 
Here  all  semblance  ceased. 

Robbie  wore  a  soft  wool  hat  with  a  broken  brim. 
Jakey's  head  was  surmounted  with  a  soldier's  cap, 
with  a  formidable  forepiece  ;  and,  because  of  the 
prominence  of  this  ornament,  Jakey  was  obliged 
to  crowd  the  cap  down  on  the  back  of  his  head,  or 
suffer  a  complete  eclipse.  Robbie  wore  a  gray 
jacket  with  black  patches ;  and  was  further  attired 


254  WINTER    IN     DANBURY. 

with  a  dingy  yellow  comforter  coiled  about  his 
neck  like  an  overfed  boa-constrictor,  and  a  pair  of 
his  mother's  cast-off  gaiters  securely  fastened  to 
his'feet.  Jakey's  jacket  was  a  rusty  plaid  without 
any  patches,  but  contemplating  them  ;  and  his 
pants  —  very  little  pants  they  were  in  the  legs,  but 
quite  obese  in  the  seat  —  were  gray,  and  had  been 
ingeniously  darned  at  the  knees  with  black  thread. 
Jakey's  little  feet  were  incased  in  low  shoes  with 
copper  tips,  —  the  only  jewelry  the  child  wore, — 
and  about  his  neck  was  a  flaming  red  comforter, 
whose  many  folds  threatened  to  smother  him. 

The  store-window  was  very  brilliant.  There 
were  candies  of  every  conceivable  design,  stored 
in  vases,  piled  on  plates,  and  heaped  in  pyramids. 
There  were  suspended  candy  canes,  and  dangling 
baskets  of  sugar  fruit,  and  festoons  of  cornucopias. 
And  while  they  stood  there,  and  stared  through  the 
window,  and  lost  their  breath  and  caught  it,  and 
then  lost  it  again,  there  was  a  sudden  invasion  of 
shouts  and  steps  ;  and  a  trocp  of  wild  boys,  hooting 
and  struggling,  crowded  up  to  the  window,  and  fell 
to  work  establishing  their  claims  by  such  brief  and 
hurried  notices  as,  " I  dubs  this  pile  !  "  "I  dubs 
the  cornucopias  !  "  "I  dubs  the  gum-drops !  "  &c. 
One  of  the  gaiters  was  very  rudely  stepped  upon  ; 
and  the  military  cap  was  knocked  down  in  front  to 
such  a  degree,  that  the  stiff  forepiece  threatened 
to  cut  off  the  copper  toes.    The  two  Miggses  imme- 


THE     LITTLE    MIGGSES      CHRISTMAS.  255 

diately  kicked  themselves  free  of  the  crowd,  and 
stopped  on  the  outskirts  to  look  at  the  struggling 
mass.  Then  bells  and  whistles  sounded  the  hour 
of  six  ;  and  the  two  children  clasped  hands  once 
more,  and  hurried  home,  one  of  them  smarting 
from  the  pressure  on  his  foot,  and  the  other  from 
the  vulgar  familiarity  which  had  been  taken  with 
his  cap.  Supper  was  ready  on  their  arrival ;  but 
they  had  to  wait  until  the  coming  of  their  father. 
The  room  had  changed  wonderfully  under  the 
influence  of  the  lamp  and  the  singing  kettle.  The 
two  little  boys,  after  taking  the  precaution  to  make 
a  careful  survey  of  the  table,  unwrapped  themselves 
from  their  superfluous  clothing,  which  they  depos- 
ited on  the  floor,  and,  until  the  arrival  of  their 
father,  treated  their  mother  to  snatches  of  infor- 
mation of  what  they  had  seen,  and  contradicted 
each  other,  and  exchanged  glances  of  mystery,  and 
wondered  what  they  were  going  to  get  for  Christ- 
mas. The  whole  of  which  they  interspersed  with 
such  observations  as,  "Oh,  my  !  "  "  I  guess  not!" 
"  Oh,  no ! "  and  the  like,  being  calculated  to  ex- 
press, although  in  a  very  feeble  manner,  the  great 
wonders  they  had  seen,  and  the  great  gratification 
they  now  experienced  in  reviewing  them.  On  the 
arrival  of  senior  Miggs  a  great  uproar  ensued, 
coming  mainly  from  the  two  junior  Miggses  ;  al- 
though the  very  diminutive  Miggs  in  arms  gave 
substantial  aid  by  partly  swallowing  a  button,  and 
recovering  it  again. 


256  WINTER     IN     DANBURY. 

The  two  Miggs  boys,  who  had  been  up  street  for 
the  express  although  concealed  purpose  of  catch- 
ing a  glimpse  of  Santa  Claus,  now  fell  to  bombard- 
ing their  father  about  him,  and  were  gratified  to 
learn  that  he  had  seen  him,  and,  furthermore,  had 
been  able,  at  an  infinite  cost  of  effort,  to  glean  the 
gratifying  information  that  he  was  coming,  and 
that  (which  was  much  more  to  the  point)  he  had 
things  in  his  bag  for  Robbie  and  Jakey. 

"  And  Georgy  ?  "  shouted  Robbie,  indicating  that 
party  by  pinching  his  fat  nose. 

"  And  Georgy  too,"  said  Mr.  Miggs,  nodding  to 
the  baby. 

"  Good!  "  shrieked  Robbie. 

"  Ki  yi!"  responded  Jakey. 

And  the  two  little  boys,  having  now  finished 
their  supper,  got  down  back  of  the  stove,  and 
speedily  fell  into  an  animated  discussion  as  to  what 
they  would  have,  and  as  to  what  they  should  do 
with  it,  and  which  would  have  the  most,  and  which 
would  keep  it  the  longest ;  and  pretty  soon  they 
suddenly  appeared  to  view  with  their  hands  in 
each  other's  hair,  and  immediately  rolled  under  the 
table  in  a  desperate  endeavor  to  kick  off  each 
other's  legs. 

The  fond  but  somewhat  astonished  father  at 
once  swooped  down  on  them,  and,  by  helping  him- 
self to  their  hair,  soon  imparted  to  them  something 
of  his  own  feelings  of  peace  and  good-will,  and  for 


THE    LITTLE    MIGGSES      CHRISTMAS.  257 

the  next  twenty  minutes  kept  himself  between 
them,  and  thus  secured  quiet. 

With  a  view  to  conforming  themselves  to  this 
sudden  and  rather  unexpected  change,  the  young 
men  slyly  shook  their  fists  at  each  other,  and,  when 
their  father  was  very  busily  engaged  in  his  conver- 
sation, found  time  to  whisper  under  his  chair  the 
plans  they  entertained  for  each  other's  future.  By 
degrees,  they  finally  worked  together  again  ;  but 
forgetting  their  past  difficulty  in  the  shadowing  of 
the  holiday,  and  by  the  close  approach  of  that  hour 
when  the  tread  of  many  feet  would  sound  on  the 
roof,  they  nestled  closely  together  by  the  side  of 
the  stove,  and  kept  their  large  watery  eyes  on 
their  father. 

Thus  they  sat  until  both  parents  grew  nervous, 
and  consulted  the  clock  as  frequently  as  if  it  were 
an  oracle,  and  the  only  oracle  within  sixty  miles. 
Sundry  observations  on  the  remarkable  safety  of 
going  to  bed  early  had  no  other  effect  upon  the 
two  little  Miggses  than  to  make  their  eyes  snap. 
Finally  it  was  suggested,  as  something  entirely 
original,  that  Santa  Claus  would  never  think  of 
putting  things  in  the  stockings  of  boys  who  did  not 
go  to  bed  at  nine  o'clock.  There  was  a  decided 
evidence  of  uneasiness  back  of  the  stove.  "  Santa 
Claus,"  Mr.  Miggs  went  on  to  explain  to  Mrs. 
Miggs,  "  knew  a  good  boy  when  he  saw  him  ;  and 
he  knew  the  very  first  and  last  thing  a  good  boy 


25S  WINTER    IN     DANBURY. 

would  persist  in  doing  would  be  in  going  to  bed 
early."  (The  uneasiness  back  of  the  stove  visibly 
increased.)  "  However,"  continued  Mr.  Miggs,  still 
addressing  himself  to  Mrs.  Miggs,  "there  are  boys 
who  think  they  are  smart,  and  will  find  out  what 
Santa  Claus  is  going  to  put  in  their  stockings  be- 
fore he  has  taken  it  out  of  his  bag ;  but  boys  like 
that  are  not  so  keen  as  they  think,  which  they 
find  to  their  cost  when  morning  comes,  and  there 
is  nothing  whatever  in  their  stockings."  Mr. 
Miggs  was  very  much  depressed  by  the  disappoint- 
ment of  the  smart  boys,  and  had  all  he  could  do  to 
restrain  a  tear ;  but  the  sudden  movement  of  the 
two  little  Miggses  to  bed  diverted  his  mind. 

Once  in  bed,  they  lay  conversing  in  whispers, 
and  staring  apprehensively  at  the  ray  of  light  com- 
ing through  the  door.  The  all-absorbing  topic  of 
their  thoughts  being  the  weird  Dutchman  and  his 
countless  treasures,  they  compared  notes  of  their 
conception  of  his  charicter,  and,  having  exhausted 
the  fertility  of  their  brain  in  giving  him  shape  and 
qualities,  finally  vowed  to  stay  awake,  and  verify 
their  own  predictions  with  their  own  eyes.  And 
after  that  they  fell  asleep. 

And,  while  they  slept,  the  wonderful  Santa  Claus 
took  down  the  little  patched  stockings,  and  put 
candies  in  them,  and  molasses  cookies,  and  jump- 
ing-jacks,  and  little  primers,  and  peanuts,  and 
sugar  kisses,  and  handled   the   little  stockings  as 


THE    LITTLE    MIGGSES      CHRISTMAS.  259 

tenderly  as  if  they  were  the  richest  the  market 
afforded,  and  their  contents  the  grandest  the  world 
could  contribute.  Angels,  unless  they  were  the 
spirits  of  grocers  and  clothiers  troubled  by  the 
memory  of  bad  accounts,  must  have  smiled^on  this 
Santa  Claus  and  his  gracious  work  of  love. 

And,  when  the  first  flush  of  Christmas  Day 
lighted  up  the  world,  the  little  Miggs  boys  were 
out  of  bed,  and  on  the  floor  of  the  big  room,  feeling 
their  way  to  the  mantle  with  the  most  affectionate 
regard  for  the  chairs  and  stoves  in  the  way. 

And  when  their  little  fingers  closed  spasmodi- 
cally on  the  stockings,  and  learned  their  plumpness 
by  the  sense  of  feeling,  the  glad  shout  that  went 
up  made  the  old  timbers  resound  with  a  thousand 
echoes.  They  flew  to  the  bedside  of  their  parents, 
and  filled  the  ears  of  those  guardians  with  the 
horrid  din  of  proud  exultation. 

Then  the  lamp  was  lighted,  because  there  could 
be  no  more  sleep  in  that  house,  and  the  contents  of 
the  stockings  were  carefully  poured  out  on  the 
table ;  and  at  every  advent  of  a  package  there  was 
another  scream  by  the  party  producing  it,  set  off  by 
a  look  of  quick  apprehension  by  the  party  observ- 
ing it. 

Then  there  was  a  great  time  getting  their  pa  and 
ma  to  taste  the  candy,  and  play  the  monkey-jacks  ; 
and,  when  they  had  done  this  to  the  satisfaction  of 
all,  the  little  Miggses  tore   out   of    the   house   in 


26o  WINTER    IN    DANBURY. 

search  of  the  other  boys  in  the  neighborhood,  to 
see  what  they  got,  and  to  compare  trophies. 

Some  of  the  boys  thus  sought  had,  we  regret  to 
say,  a  better  variety  and  superior  toys  to  what  the 
Miggseft  got ;  but  then  there  were  other  boys  who 
fared  worse,  and  so  the  matter  was  balanced. 

But  there  is  a  sort  of  feeHng,  bred  from  the  occa- 
sion itself,  we  think,  which  pervades  the  atmos- 
phere, mellowing  the  hearts  of  all  children,  and 
making  them,  unless  they  are  brothers,  perfectly 
contented  with  what  they  have  received,  as  com- 
pared with  what  others,  more  favored,  have  received. 

The  little  Miggses  did  not  see  any  thing  among 
the  neighbors  that  made  their  possessions  appear 
any  the  less  comforting.  They  chewed  their  candy, 
and  cracked  their  peanuts,  and  jumped  their  jacks, 
and  thumbed  their  primers,  in  a  mild  insanity.  And, 
when  they  were  tired  of  this,  they  went  out  into 
the  yard,  and  slid  on  some  green-and-white  ice 
made  by  suds.  And,  when  their  own  eatables  were 
dissolved,  they  generously  turned  in  of  one  accord, 
and  helped  the  baby-brother  to  eat  his. 

And  when  these,  too,  were  gone,  and  the  Christ- 
mas-dinner eaten,  they  wrapped  their  threadbare 
garments  about  their  little  forms,  and  stoned  the 
neighboring  hens  until  dark. 


A    FEMALE    CAUCUS.  26 1 


A    FEMALE    CAUCUS. 

They  were  going  to  get  up  a  Lady  Washington 
tea-party  for  the  benefit  of  their  society.  It  was 
to  come  off  on  the  night  of  the  22d ;  and,  of  an 
afternoon  a  few  days  before,  several  ladies  met  at 
the  house  of  one  of  the  number  to  perfect  the 
arrangements.  It  was  determined  to  give  a  grand 
affair,  —  something  especially  designed  to  transcend 
the  tea-party  by  a  rival  organization  last  year.  To 
this  purpose  it  became  necessary  to  devote  the 
most  careful  thought  to  all  the  details ;  and  this  was 
done.  In  fact,  it  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  more 
conscientious  committee  in  a  hamlet  the  size  of 
Danbury.  When  all  the  particulars  were  arranged, 
and  the  various  stands  and  minor  offices  assigned 
to  the  ordinary  members  of  the  society,  —  who  were 
not  present,  —  the  important  question  as  to  who 
should  take  the  leading  character  was  brought  up. 
With  a  view  to  doing  without  the  delay  and  feeling 
of  balloting,  the  president  kindly  offered  to.  do 
Lady  Washington  herself.  She  said  that  she  felt 
it  was  not  a  favorable  selection  ;  but  she  was  willing 
to  take  it,  so  that  there  need  be  no  discussion  or 
ill-feeling.  If  she  thought  she  had  not  placed  a 
sufficiently  modest  estimate  upon  her  qualifications 
for  the  post,  she  was  presently  set  at  rest  on  that 
head.     Her  offer  was  received  with  silence. 

"  What  do  you  think  }  "  she  asked.  "  I'm  will- 
in::  to  do  it." 


262  WiMTeR    IN     DANBURY. 

"  Lady  Washington  never  weighed  two  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds,"  ominously  hinted  a  thin  lady 
with  very  light  eyes. 

"  She  had  fat  enough  on  her  to  grease  a  griddle, 
which  is  more'n  some  folks  can  claim,"  retorted  the 
president,  with  any  thing  but  a  dreamy  expression 
to  her  face.  The  tall  lady's  eyes  grew  a  shade 
darker,  and  her  lips  shaped  themselves  as  if  they 
were  saying  "  Hussy  !  "  but  it  is  probable  they  were 
not. 

"  As  our  two  friends  are  so  little  likely  to  agree," 
observed  a  lady  whose  face  showed  that  she  was 
about  to  metamorphose  herself  into  a  barrel  of 
prime  oil,  and  precipitate  herself  on  to  the  troubled 
waters,  "  I  would  suggest  that  I  take  the  character." 

"  Humph  ! "  ejaculated  the  president. 

"  Is  there  any  objection  to  my  being  Lady  Wash- 
ington.''" said  the  new  party,  facing  abruptly  the 
president,  and  emptying  out  the  oil,  and  filling  up 
the  barrel  immediately  with  a  superior  grade  of 
vinegar. 

"  I  don't  know  of  any,  if  some  one  will  demon- 
strate that  Lady  Washington  had  a  wart  on  her 
nose,"  replied  the  president  with  unblemished  se- 
renity. 

"  Am  I  to  be  insulted  }  "  hotly  demanded  the 
proprietor  of  the  wart. 

"  The  truth  ought  not  to  be  insulting,"  replied 
the  president. 


A    FEMALE    CAUCUS.  263 

"  I  s'pose  our  president  thinks  she  would  be  a 
perfect  Lady  Washington,"  ironically  suggested  a 
weak -faced  woman,  who  saw  her  chances  for  taking 
the  character  dejectedly  emerge  from  the  small  end 
of  the  horn. 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  would  be  perfect  in  that  rohr 
replied  the  president  ;  "  but,  as  there  will  be  stran- 
gers present  at  the  party,  I  shouldn't  want  them  to 
think  that  the  nearest  approach  Danbury  could 
make  to  the  dignity  of  '^6  was  a  toothless  woman 
down  with  the  jaundice."  And  the  head  officer 
smiled  serenely  at  the  ceiling. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  you  insinuating  thing .'' " 
hoarsely  demanded  the  victim  of  the  jaundice. 

"Keep  your  mouth  shut  until  you  are  spoken  to, 
then,"  severely  advised  the  president. 

"  I'm  not  to  be  dictated  to  by  a  mountain  of  tal- 
low," hissed  the  chromatic  delegate,  flouncing  out 
of  the  room. 

"  I  think  we'd  better  get  another  president  be- 
fore we  go  any  farther,"  said  a  sharp-faced  woman, 
very  much  depressed  by  the  outlook  for  herself. 

"  It  isn't  hardly  time  for  you  yet,"  observed  the 
president,  with  a  significant  look  at  the  sharp-faced 
woman.  "  We  have  to  arrange  for  Lady  Wash- 
ington and  George  Washington  before  we  need  the 
hate  J  let!' 

The  sharp-faced  lady  snatched  up  her  muff  with- 
out the   faintest  hesitation,  and  rushed  out  doors 


?64  WINTER     IN     DANBURY. 

to  get  her  breath.  She  was  immediately  followed 
by  the  proprietor  of  the  wart,  the  thin  lady  disas- 
trously connected  with  a  griddle,  and  the  toothless 
case  of  jaundice  This  left  but  the  president  and 
a  little  woman  who  had  yet  said  nothing. 

"  Has  it  occurred  to  you  that  you  would  like  to 
be  Lady  Washington  ?  "  asked  the  president,  con- 
centrating both  of  her  eyes  on  a  wen  just  under 
the  small  woman's  left  ear. 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  gasped  the  small  woman,  impulsively 
covering  up  the  excrescence  with  her  hand. 

"  Then  I  guess  we'll  adjourn  sine  die!'  said  the 
president  ;  and,  pulling  on  her  gloves,  she  compos- 
edly took  her  departure. 

And  the  tea-party  became  the  fragment  of  a 
gloomy  memory. 


SWEARING    OFF. 

The  day  after  New- Year's,  Mr.  Whiting  came 
home  to  dinner,  and  electrified  his  wife  with  — 

"  I  have  sworn  off  drinking,  Matilda." 

"  You  have  ?  "  said  his  wife,  hardly  believing  her 
senses. 

"  Yes,  sir-ee  !  "  he  animatedly  replied.  "  I've 
sworn  off,  —  sworn  off  this  very  day;  and  that's  the 
last  of  it,  by  hokey  !  " 

Mr.  Whiting  sat  down  to  the  table  with  a  self- 
satisfied  air,  and  rubbed  his  hands  in  a  self-satis- 
fied way,  and  briskly  continued: — 


SWEARING    OFF.  26$ 

"  I've  been  thinking  over  this  thing  all  the  morn- 
ing ;  and  I've  come  to  the  conclusion  that  I've 
made  a  fool  of  myself  just  long  enough.  Why! 
the  money  I  spend  in  liquor  would  very  soon  get 
me  a  house  I've  figured  it  up.  Take  fifty  or 
sixty  cents  a  day,  an'  I  tell  you  it  counts  up  mighty 
fast.  It  costs  me  about  a  hundred  and  sixty-five 
dollars  a  year ;  an'  in  eight  years  that  would  get 
me  a  comfortable  place,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
adornments  and  comforts  generally  which  such  a 
sum  would  bring" 

"  Are  you  sure  you  can  stick  to  it  .'* "  inquired 
his  wife  with  some  anxiety. 

"  Sure  of  it !  Gracious  !  I  guess  I  am  sure  of  it. 
I  ain't  been  figuring  this  thing  for  nothing.  Oh  ! 
I  shall  do  it  I'm  like  a  flint,  I  am,  when  I  get 
started.  I've  got  a  will  like  a  perary-fire  :  there's 
no  fighting  against  it.  Yes,  sir  :  I've  figured  this 
thing  up  from  bottom  to  top,  and  from  top  to 
bottom  ;  and  I'm  bound  to  do  it.  I  know  when  I 
figure  ;  and  I've  figured  this  thing  right  down  to  a 
fine  pint,  you  bet !  " 

Mr.  Whiting  continued  his  dinner,  his  face  shin- 
ing, and  his  heart  warmed  with  the  greatness  of 
his  purpose.  When  he  got  on  his  coat,  and  started 
for  work,  he  observed  to  his  wife, — 

"  I'll  get  you  a  pair  of  vases  in  a  few  days, 
Matilda,  an'  a  set  of  furs  ;  an'  I'm  going  to  have 
a  French  clock  as  big  as  a  cook-stove,  an'  a  con- 


266  WINTER     IN     DANBURY- 

servatory  with  the  biggest  smelUng  flowers  in  the 
land.  An'  I  guess  I'll  get  a  pianny,  and  a  horse, 
an'  perhaps  a  couple  of  dogs,  an'  I  don't  know 
but  a  cow.  I've  figured  this  thing  up,  an'  there's 
no  use  talking  :  money  is  to  be  saved.  It  makes 
~Tie  mad  enough  to  kick  my  shoulder  out  of  joint 
(vhen  I  think  what  a  fool  I've  been  all  these  years. 
Why,  hang  it  all !  we  might  'av'  had  an  ice-house 
of  our  own,  and  been  living  in  a  hotel.  This  is  the 
solemn  truth,  or  I  am  a  tattooed  galoot  from  some 
archipelago,  by  hokey  !  " 

And  Mr.  Whiting  glowed  all  over  with  the  great 
excitement. 

"  Dear,  dear  Tom  ! "  cried  his  delighted  wife  as 
tihe  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  sobbed 
aloud. 

"  Don't  cry,  Tildy !  "  he  hastily  exclaimed,  while 
he  vainly  strove  to  keep  back  the  tears  from  his 
own  eyes.  "  It's  all  right,  you  know,"  he  went  on 
in  an  assuring  voice,  and  gently  stroking  her  hair. 
"I've  figured  it  up,  an'  I'm  going  to  do  it.  Don't 
cry,  Tildy:  it's  all  right.  I've  figured  it  up,  an'  you 
can  depend  on  me."  And,  disengaging  her  arms, 
he  departed  to  his  work,  his  heart  lighter  and  glad- 
der than  it  had  been  for  some  years. 

"  By  George ! "  he  said  to  himself,  suddenly 
pausing,  and  slapping  his  leg.  "  This  is  what  may 
be  called  living."  And  he  went  on  again,  looking 
happier  than  before. 


SWEARING    OFF.  267 

He  came  home  to  tea.  There  was  not  that 
hopeful,  buoyant  expression  in  his  face  that  was 
there  at  noon.  He  looked  distrustfully  about  the 
room  as  he  pulled  off  his  coat. 

"  Ain't  that  supper  ready  yet .'' "  he  gruffly 
inquired. 

"  It  will  be  in  a  minute,"  replied  Mrs.  Whiting. 

He  threw  his  coat  on  one  chair,  and  his  hat  in 
another,  and  heavily  sank  into  a  third.  For  a 
moment  he  sat  there  contemplating  the  fire. 
Then  he  arose,  and  wanted  to  know  what  in  thun- 
der was  the  matter  with  that  stove :  the  house  was 
as  cold  as  a  barn.  Mrs.  Whiting  looked  at  him  in 
astonishment.  But,  if  she  was  amazed  now,  she 
was  more  than  dumfounded  before  bed-time.  He 
said  the  biscuits  were  heavy  as  lead,  that  the  tea 
was  slop,  and  that  the  preserves  were  worse  than 
chopped-up  oil-cloth.  The  room  was  either  too  hot 
or  too  cold.  Every  thing  belonging  to  him  had 
been  misplaced.  He  picked  up  nothing  :  he 
snatched  it  up.  He  lay  down  nothing  :  he  threw 
it  down.  He  growled  when  he  spoke,  and  he  spoke 
but  little.  The  poor  woman  was  in  an  agony  of 
apprehension.  In  all  the  years  of  their  wedded 
life  she  had  never  seen  him  act  like  this.  He  grew 
worse  as  the  hours  advanced,  and  finally  wound  up 
by  emphatically  declaring  that  he  "  might  as  well 
be  in  a  lunatic-asylum,  a-fittin'  spectacles  to  pink- 
eyed  taters  for  his  board,  as  to  live  in  such  a  house." 


268  ,     WINTER     IN     DANBURY. 

Then  he  went  to  bed. 

At  breakfast  next  morning,  Mrs.  Whiting  quietly 
observed, — 

"Tom,  you  figured  it  all  out  yesterday,  didn't 
you  .''  " 

He  made  no  reply. 

"Well,  I've  been  figuring  too;  and  I  —  I  think 
we  can  get  along  without  the  vases,  and  the  piano, 
and  the  French  clock,  and  the  other  things  ;  and 
as  for  living  in  a  hotel,  and  owning  an  ice-house,  I 
haven't  the  faintest  desire." 

And  they  are  doing  without  those  things  for  the 
present. 


A    GHASTLY    JOY. 

There  being  a  great  plenty  of  snow,  there  is  an 
abundance  of  sleighing,  and,  consequently,  an  abun- 
dance of  misery.  There  is  nothing  in  which  our 
people  so  persistently  labor  to  deceive  themselves 
as  in  the  matter  of  sleighing.  The  opera  is  noth- 
ing to  it.  If  there  is  not  much  snow,  everybody  is 
sorry  ;  if  there  is  plenty,  everybody  is  glad.  And 
yet  it  is  safe  to  say,  that  not  one  in  twenty  who  go 
sleighing  enjoy  it.  We  deceive  each  other;  we 
deceive  ourselves.  A  young  man  hires  a  horse  and 
sleigh,  and  gives  his  girl  a  ride.  It  is  a  pleasure- 
trip,  without  doubt :  in  fact,  it  is  useless  to  dispute 
it.      His  mother  wants  him  to  wear  a  cap  which 


A    GHASTLY    JOY.  269 

can  be  drawn  down  over  his  ears,  and  to  tie  a 
comforter  about  his  neck,  and  put  on  two  pairs  of 
pants,  and  a  small  shawl  under  his  coat,  and  a 
pair  of  mittens  over  his  gloves ;  but  he  does  not 
do  it.  He  even  feels  offended  at  the  suggestion, 
and  becomes  a  trifle  irritable  under  the  advice. 
She  is  a  good  mother  ;  but  she  is  well  along  in 
years,  and  doesn't  understand  the  proprieties  of 
things.  He  understands  them.  He  is  not  going 
after  a  load  of  wood  :  he  is  going  on  a  pleasure- 
excursion  with  one  who  is  very  dear  to  him  ;  and, 
if  he  should  appear  comfortable  rather  than  stylish, 
he  might  lose  her  favor  forever.  This  is  a  serious 
reflection.  So  he  dons  a  silk  hat  and  a  pair  of 
light  gloves,  and  trusts  the  entire  protection  of  his 
throat  to  a  stand-up  shirt-collar.  And  she  —  how 
does  she  prepare  for  the  ride .-'  She,  too,  has  a 
mother,  —  a  thoughtful  old  body,  but  so  far,  so 
very  far,  behind  the  age !  And  this  mother  takes 
a  hearty  interest  in  the  ride.  She  suggests  a  quilted 
hood  for  her  daughter's  head,  and  a  pair  of  warm 
home-made  mitts  for  her  hands,  and  a  wealth  of  tip- 
pets for  her  neck  and  body.  She  even  persists  in 
these  things,  and  is  honestly  horrified  at  what  she 
calls  the  temerity  of  going  without  them.  But  her 
daughter  is  not  going  to  do  it.  She  is  not  going 
to  appear  to  him  like  a  mummy.  How  it  zvojild 
look !  So  she  puts  on  her  Sunday  bonnet  with  its 
bright  colors,  and  some  lace  around  the  neck,  and 


270  WINTER    IN     DANBURY. 

a  pair  of  kids  on  her  hands.  And  so  they  start 
off,  leaving  the  mother  half  paralyzed  with  horror 
on  the  door-step,  with  her  arms  full  of  comfortable 
woollens.  But  they  present  a  fine  appearance : 
there  is  no  doubt  of  that.  The  horse  dashes  along 
at  a  rapid  pace ;  the  bells  sound  merrily  ;  and  the 
handsome  sleigh  and  the  bright-colored  robes  com- 
bine to  make  a  pleasant  picture  to  outsiders.  The 
couple  are  out  for  a  sleigh-ride,  and  they  must 
enjoy  it.  He  is  very  happy.  His  fingers  feel  like 
stove-legs  ;  his  feet  ache  with  the  cold ;  his  nose 
and  ears  are  batteries  of  sharp,  tingling  sensations  ; 
the  play  of  his  mouth  has  been  crippled  by  the 
action  of  the  biting  air  ;  and  his  spine  appears  to 
have  been  turned  into  a  race-course  for  the  special 
purpose  of  displaying  the  speed  in  a  polar  wave. 

Everybody  goes  sleigh-riding.  There  is  a  pecul- 
iar fascination  in  it.  She  feels  this  as  they  glide 
along.  It  makes  her  very  happy.  Her  new  hat 
sits  on  the  back  of  her  head,  displaying  her  crimps 
to  the  very  best  advantage,  and  exposing  one-half 
of  her  head  to  the  action  of  the  weather.  Her  nose 
has  become  a  deep  carmine  at  the  tip  ;  her  lips  are 
livid,  her  eyes  set,  her  cheeks  icy ;  the  kidded 
hands  are  stiff  with  the  cold,  and  the  kidded  feet 
are  benumbed  beyond  all  recovery.  Chills  chase 
wildly  along  the  nerve-centres  of  their  bodies  ;  and 
their  faces  are  peppered  with  hardened  snow  and 
other  things  thrown  up  by  the  flying  heels  of  the 


A    GHASTLY    JOY.  27 1 

horse.  Such  happiness!  sack  joy!  such  exhilara- 
tion I  People  moving  along  on  the  walks  observe 
them  with  envious  eyes,  while  the  keen  air  through 
which  they  are  rushing  is  perforating  them  with  a 
million  sharp  darts.  They  don't  talk  much  now ; 
their  joy  is  too  great  for  utterance,  perhaps.  At 
any  rate,  a  silence  falls  upon  them  ;  and  he  is  aware, 
when  he  attempts  to  say  any  thing,  that  his  mouth 
threatens  to  slop  all  over  his  face,  and  stay  there; 
and,  when  she  attempts  to  laugh,  it  seems  as  if  the 
lower  half  of  her  head  was  about  to  come  off,  and 
slip  into  the  bottom  of  the  sleigh,  and  be  lost 
among  the  robes.  This  is  an  unhappy  thought : 
but  sleigh-riding  seems  to  be  the  right  thing  to  do ; 
and  they  are  doing  it.  And  then  —  and  this  is 
really  the  cream  of  the  fun  —  they  both  appear 
well ;  that  is,  there  is  nothing  bungling  or  awk- 
ward in  their  appearance  :  they  look  stylish.  And 
so  they  ride,  and  ride,  and  ride  ;  and  when  they 
get  back,  and  she  stumbles  into  the  house,  and  he 
reels  into  the  stable  and  hands  over  the  five  dollars 
with  his  petrified  fingers,  there  is  something  so 
massive  about  their  joy,  that  it  seems  as  if  they 
never  would  be  able  to  fully  comprehend  it. 

Then  there  is  the  alligator,  who  owns  a  horse  and 
sleigh  of  his  own,  and  who,  to  get  the  worth  of 
his  money,  has  faced  all  kinds  of  weather  with  them, 
until  his  skin  has  become  impervious,  his  nerves 
solidified,  and  his  sensibilities  deadened  beyond  all 


272  WINTER     IN     DANBURY. 

recall.  The  only  one  sentiment  he  is  capable  of  is 
revenge  ;  and,  to  gratify  that,  he  is  constantly  prowl- 
ing about  in  search  of  unsuspecting  people,  whom 
he  beguiles  into  his  sleigh.  His  chief  victim  is 
the  man  of  sedentary  pursuits,  who,  being  always 
shut  up,  is  the  more  easily  seduced  into  the  ride ; 
and,  being  always  shut  up,  is  the  more  susceptible 
to  the  cold.  And  so  this  unhappy  wretch  is  caught 
up,  and  whirled  through  the  cold  air  until  every 
tooth  in  his  head  is  loosened,  and  every  drop  of 
blood  in  his  body  is  congealed,  and  every  nerve 
strung  to  its  highest  tension  of  suffering;  until 
his  heart  stands  still  in  pain,  his  brain  becomes 
locked  in  a  sea  of  ice,  and  his  limbs  have  lost  their 
power  of  motion.  Then  he  is  dumped  out,  and 
crawls  back  to  his  place  of  business  a  shattered 
wreck  of  his  former  self.  Snow  may  come  and  go, 
flowers  bloom  and  fall  again,  and  thus  the  years 
creep  on ;  but  that  man  will  never  be  as  he  was 
before,  —  never,  never  again. 


AN     EXTREMELY     PRACTICAL     BOY. 

"  Tommy,"  observed  a  Nelson-street  mother  to 
her  son,  a  youth  of  thirteen  years,  "  you  must  cut 
some  wood  for  the  front-room  stove.  Mr.  Craw- 
ford comes  to-night." 

Mr.  Crawford  is  a  young  man  who  is  "keeping 


AN     EXTREMELY    PRACTICAL     BOY.  273 

company"  with  Fanny,  Tommy's  sister.  The  time 
was  a  Wednesday  evening.  Tommy  had  been  skat 
ing  since  school,  and  was  now  anxiously  awaiting 
his  supper.  The  announcement  came  upon  him 
with  disagreeable  force. 

"  Is  that  old  rooster  comin'  around  here  to- 
night .''  "  he  impetuously  inquired. 

"Thomas!"  cried  his  mother  in  a  voice  of  hor- 
ror. 

Thomas,  having  eased  his  mind  somewhat  of  the 
burden,  proceeded  to  the  wood-pile  without  further 
remark. 

He  was  not  in  good  humor  as  he  looked  around 
for  the  axe,  and  articles  foreign  to  the  search  were 
moved  with  graceless  haste. 

"  This  is  a  reg'lar  dog's  life,"  he  moodily  ejacu- 
lated. "  First  it's  Sunday  night,  an'  then  it  is 
Wednesday  night,  an'  then  it's  Friday  night,  an' 
every  little  while  an  extra  night  thrown  in.  I  don't 
see  what's  the  use  of  a  girl  about  the  house.  If 
I've  got  to  cut  wood  every  time  that  feller  comes, 
I'll  know  the  reason  why.  I  won't  be  put  on 
like  this.  I  ain't  goin'  to  be  made  a  pack-mule  of, 
by  George  !  for  all  the  Crawfords  and  Fannys  on 
earth.  It's  all  nice  enough  for  them  to  be  in  there 
toasting  their  shins,  an'  actin'  sickish  ;  but  I  notice 
that  /  have  got  to  do  all  the  work.  It's  played  out, 
by  Jinks  !  I  ain't  that  kind  of  hair-pin.  I'd  just 
like  to  have  somebody  tell  me,"  he  added,  looking 


274  WINTER    IN    DANBURY. 


around  for  the  person  in  question,  "  how  much  of 
the  candy  an'  oranges  an'  other  stuff  that  Fanny 
gets,  I  get.  Not  one  whiff,  by  gracious  !  —  not  one 
single,  solitary  whiff!  An'  here  I  chop  wood  for 
her  an'  him  night  after  night ;  an',  if  it  wasn't  for 
me,  they'd  shake  all  the  teeth  outen  their  heads. 
Oh,  they  are  a  sweet-scented  pair,  they  are  ! " 

Closing  his  remarks  with  this  gloomy  observa- 
tion on  his  sister  and  her  company,  he  worked 
away  at  the  wood  until  the  amount  necessary  was 
prepared.  About  seven  o'clock,  Mr.  Crawford's 
knock  sounded  at  the  door.  Fanny's  mother  .was 
to  have  let  him  in ;  but  Tommy  volunteered  his 
service.  He  escorted  the  young  gentleman  into 
the  front-room  ;  and  then,  backing  himself  against 
the  door,  he  pointed  to  the  stove,  which  was  throw- 
ing out  a  most  welcome  heat,  and  sternly  in- 
quired, — 

"  Is  that  what  you'd  call  a  good  fire  .'' " 

"  Yes,  indeed  ! "  said  Mr.  Crawford,  rubbing  his 
hands  gratefully. 

"  Ah ! "  observed  Tommy  in  a  tone  of  relief, 
although -his  face  scarcely  relaxed  the  severity  of 
its  expression.  "  You  couldn't  very  well  get  along 
in  here  without  a  fire,  could  you  .-' " 

"  Hardly." 

"  I  s'pose  not.  Now,  who  do  you  s'pose  made 
that  fire  .? " 

"Why — I  —  I  suppose  —  why,   I  don't    know," 


AN    EXTREMELY    PRACTICAL    BOY.  275 

said  Mr.  Crawford,  apparently  embarrassed  by  the 
question. 

"  No  ?  Well,  I  can  tell  you.  I  made  that  fire. 
I  cut  the  wood  for  it.  I  cut  the  wood,  and  make 
every  fire  you  have  here.  I've  been  doing  it  all 
the  while  you've  come  here  ;  and  you  and  Fan  have 
set  by  it,  and  toasted  yourselves,  and  ate  candy, 
and  sucked  oranges.  You  an'  Fan  have  had  all 
the  comfort  of  it ;  an'  I've  done  all  the  work,  every 
bit  of  it.  An'  not  one  smell  of  them  candies  an' 
oranges  have  I  had,  —  not  a  living  smell."  The 
unhappy  boy  knit  his  eyebrows,  and  instinctively 
clinched  his  hands.  Scarcely  less  disturbed  ap- 
peared Fanny's  young  man.  He  glanced  uneasily 
from  the  fireman  to  the  stove.  But  he  made  no 
reply.  He  waited  apprehensively  for  what  was  to 
follow. 

"  I'll  bet  you've  got  a  pound  of  assorted  candies 
in  your  clothes  this  minute  for  Fan !  " 

This  came  so  directly  in  the  form  of  an  interro- 
gation, that  Mr.  Crawford  unhesitatingly  nodded. 

"  So  I  thought,"  pursued  Fanny's  brother. 
"  Now,  I  want  to  tell  you,  that,  if  this  fire-business 
is  to  be  carried  on  by  me,  there's  got  to  be  a  differ- 
ent arrangement  of  awards  :  if  not,  you  can  come 
up  here  and  cut  your  own  wood.  Will  you  divy  on 
them  candies .'' " 

"  Why  —  why  —  I  —  I  hardly  would  like  to  do 
that,  Tommy.     I  got  these  for  Fanny,  you  know." 


276  WINTER    IN    DANBURY. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Tommy  grimly.  "  When  1 
see  you  come  up  here  again,  I  shall  expect  to  see 
you  lugging  an  axe  over  your  shoulder." 

Mr.  Crawford  looked  aghast. 

"  But,  Tommy,"  he  expostulated.  "  You  won't 
come  back  on  me  like  that  ?  I'll  pay  you  for  doing 
it." 

"  Oh  !     What  will  you  pay  !  " 

"  I'll  give  you  fifty  cents  a  week." 

"  Hope  to  die  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Crawford  eagerly. 

"  Then  I  am  just  your  cheese,"  said  the  youth, 
the  hard  lines  melting  entirely  out  of  his  face. 
"  There's  nothing  mean  about  me  ;  but  I  don't  want 
to  go  along  in  the  dark.  This  thing  had  to  be  set- 
tled some  way  or  another ;  for  it  was  eating  the  life 
out  of  me.  But,  now  that  it  is  fixed,  you'll  find  me 
up  to  the  mark  every  time ;  and,  if  I  don't  make 
that  stove  rare  right  up  on  its  hind-legs,  I  am  a 
bald-headed  leper  without  a  pedigree." 

And,  with  a  flourish  expressive  of  the  deepest 
earnestness,  he  stalked  out  of  the  room. 


LITTLE     BOB'S     GREAT     GRIEF. 

Poor  little  Bob  !  Bob  had  planned  to  go  skat- 
ing after  school  that  day :  but  Bob's  mother  was 
afraid  of  the  texture  of  the  ice ;  and,  when  he  came 


LITTLE    BOBS    GREAT    GRIEF.  277 

home  for  his  skates,  she  told  him  he  could  not  go. 
Bob  whined,  and  she  told  him  to  shut  up.  This 
caused  him  to  whine  again  ;  when  she  slipped  off 
her  shoe,  with  the  intimation  she  would  give  him 
something  to  cry  for ;  and  she  did.  Outraged  in 
body  and  mind,  Bob  had  betaken  himself  to  his 
own  room,  and  sullenly  squatted  on  the  side  of  the 
bed.  His  face  had  settled  down  into  hard  ridges, 
and  his  hands  were  clinched  tight  together.  There 
was  a  strong  rebellion  in  Bob's  heart.  He  knew 
the  ice  was  strong  enough  to  bear  an  elephant ;  and 
he  knew  his  mother  knew  it,  and  that  her  action 
was  purely  tyrannical.  He  had  looked  impartially 
over  her  conduct,  and  there  could  be  no  other  ex- 
planation. If  she  had  loved  him,  she  would  have 
done  differently.  They  were  hard  thoughts  that 
passed  through  Bob's  mind  as  he  sullenly  sat  there, 
and  clinched  his  fingers  into  the  palms  of  his 
hands.  The  shadows  were  gathering  outside  his 
window,  and  darkness  was  forming  the  night ;  but 
Bob  did  not  notice  it.  His  eyes  were  bent  on  the 
window;  but  he  saw  nothing  through  it:  he  saw 
only  the  tumultuous  darkness  of  the  storm  in  his 
little  heart.  Every  once  in  a  while,  signs  of  the 
tempest  inside  appeared  on  the  surface  in  long- 
drawn  sobs.  Bob  wished  he  was  dead  ;  wished 
that  the  golden  cord  could  snap  right  there  and 
then.  If  he  were  dead,  his  mother's  heart  would 
be    luuciiod.     She   would   bend  over   him    in  wild 


278  WINTER     IN     DANBURY. 

grief  and  bitter  upbraidings  ;  and  he  would  lay 
there  white  and  dead,  and  enjoy  it.  Bob's  idea  of 
death  w;Js  comforting,  but  hardly  orthodox.  Bob 
did  not  want  to  be  an  angel ;  but  Bob  did  crave  re- 
venge. He  hungered  to  get  even  with  his  mother. 
In  the  tumult  of  his  heart,  this  unsightly  object 
was  constantly  being  tossed  to  the  top  ;  and  at 
every  appearance  it  looked  better  and  brighter  to 
him.  Open  rebellion  was- out  of  the  question,  and 
Bob  realized  it.  Bob's  mother  is  one  of  those  un- 
happy women  who  will  be  obeyed.  What  would 
Bob  do  .-*  The  look  in  his  eyes  grew  harder,  the 
fingers  increased  their  pressure,  and  the  lines  in 
his  face  —  the  hard,  cruel  lines  —  became  more 
marked.  Death  would  not  come  at  the  beck  of  a 
boy  with  tear-stained  cheeks.  But  Bob  would  have 
his  revenge  without  the  aid  of  the  dread  messen- 
ger. Had  his  mother  loved  him,  she  could  not 
have  been  so  cruel.  But  he  would  test  that  love 
now,  however  great  or  little  it  might  be.  His  own 
heart  was  numb  with  pain  :  why  should  not  she 
suffer  ?  She  should  !  He  brought  his  hands  to- 
gether with  sharp  nervous  force,  and  uttered  this 
determination  aloud.  He  was  in  pain  :  so  should 
she  be.  He  could  not  defy  her,  but  he  could  grieve 
her ;  and  he  would.  He  would  lacerate  her  feel- 
ings ;  he  would  wring  her  heart  ;  he  would  crush 
her  soul.  How  .'*  It  doesn't  seem  possible  that  a 
heart  so  young  could  conceive  such  a  cruel  purpose. 


LITTLE    BOBS    GREAT    GRIEF.  279 

Bob  determined  to  eat  no  stipper !  He  could  hear 
the  dishes  rattle  in  the  dining-room  ;  but  every 
sound  only  strengthened  him  in  his  determination. 
He  would  go  without  food,  and  gloat  over  the 
agony  in  his  conscience-stricken  mother's  face  as 
he  faded  slowly  away  before  her  eyes.  How  happy 
Bob  was  now  !  —  so  maliciously,  so  cruelly  happy  ! 
Pretty  soon  there  was  a  step  in  the  hall.  It  was 
his  mother  coming  to  call  him  to  supper.  She 
opened  the  door, 

"  Robert ! " 

'"M." 

"  Come  to  your  supper." 

"  I  don't  want  no  supper,"  he  said  in  a  con- 
strained voice. 

"  Don't  want  any  supper  .-*  " 

"  No,"  he  mumbled. 

"  If  you  ain't  down  to  your  supper  before  we  get 
through,  the  table  will  be  cleared  off,  and  you 
sha'n't  have  a  mouthful,"  was  the  somewhat  unex- 
pected rejoinder. 

"  I  don't  care,"  he  replied  in  a  stifled  voice. 

Then  the  door  was  shut,  and  Bob  was  alone 
again,  —  a  somewhat  surprised  and  disappointed 
Bob.  To  his  strained  hearing  every  sound  at  the 
table  was  distinctly  apparent.  Then  came  the 
extra  rattling  of  clearing  away  the  things,  and, 
shortly  after,  a  silence.  Poor  Bob !  He  covered  his 
hands  over  his  head,  and  sobbed,  and  sobbed  him- 


WINTER    IN    DANBURY. 


self  to  sleep.  When  Bob  awoke,  the  darkness  was 
intense,  and  he  was  chilled  to  the  marrow.  He 
raised  his  head,  and  listened.  Not  a  sound  was 
heard.  He  crept  out  of  bed,  and  found  his  way  to 
the  door.  The  hall  was  as  dark  as  the  room.  His 
parents  had  gone  to  bed,  and  had  never  come  near 
to  see  him  fade  slowly  away,  and  were  now,  with- 
out doubt,  sound  asleep,  with  no  thought  of  little 
Bob.  How  long  he  had  slept  he  could  not  tell ;  but, 
while  he  slept,  a  great  transformation  had  gone  on. 
The  aching  void  in  his  heart  had  been  transferred 
to  his  stomach.  Shivering  and  quaking,  he  got  out 
of  his  clothes  and  crept  into  bed,  with  a  feeling 
that  made  him  burrow  his  head  out  of  sight  be- 
neath the  covers.  The  next  morning  he  did  not 
have  to  be  called  to  breakfast ;  but  at  the  table, 
under  a  self-inflicted  protest  of  a  mild  type,  he 
buried  his  grief  under  a  pyramid  of  buckwheat- 
cakes. 


A    WINTER    IDYL. 

What  a  frightful  sensation  that  is,  when  you 
have  just  got  home  of  a  cold  Monday  night,  and 
pulled  your  boots  off,  to  be  told  that  the  week's 
washing  is  out  on  the  line,  and  must  be  brought  in  ! 
Now,  to  do  this  of  a  dewy  eve  in  the  summer,  with 
the  delicate  perfume  of  flowers  filling  the  air,  and 
a  brass  band  on  the  next  street,  is  not  exactly  a 


A  Winter  Day.  —  Page  281. 


A    WINTER     IDYL.  281 

hardship ;  but  to  do  it  in  the  dead  of  winter,  with 
a  chilHng  breeze  blowing,  and  the  clothes  as  stiff 
as  a  rolling-pin,  is  something  no  man  can  contem- 
plate without  quaking.  We  don't  quite  understand 
how  it  is  that  a  man  invariably  gets  his  boots  off 
before  the  dread  summons  comes  ;  but  the  rest  of 
it  is  plain  enough.  There  is  a  sort  of  rebellious 
feeling  in  his  heart  which  prompts  him  to  try  to 
entangle  his  wife  in  an  argument ;  and,  failing  in 
this,  he  snatches  up  the  basket  and  goes  out  in 
the  yard  with  it,  rapping  it  against  the  chairs,  and 
knocking  it  against  the  sides  of  the  door  with  as 
much  vigor  as  if  it  was  not  purely  accidental.  If 
the  fond  wife  is  anyway  attentive,  she  can  hear 
his  well-known  voice  consigning  various  objects 
to  eternal  suffering,  long  after  he  has  disappeared. 
There  is  no  levity  in  a  line  of  frozen  clothes. 
Every  article  is  as  frigid  as  the  Cardiff  giant ;  and 
the  man  who  wrenches  the  pin  off,  and  then  holds 
the  basket  in  expectation  of  seeing  the  piece  drop 
off  the  line  of  its  own  accord,  is  too  pure  and  sim- 
ple for  this  world.  But  our  man  isn't  of  that  nature. 
He  catches  hold  of  the  garment  with  his  chilled 
hands,  and  seeks  to  pull  it  off ;  but  it  doesn't  come. 
Then  he  yanks  it  upwards,  and  then  downwards, 
and  then  sideways  ;  and,  when  it  comes  off,  it  main- 
tains the  shape  it  has  been  all  the  afternoon  work- 
ing into,  which  permits  it  just  as  readily  to  enter 
the  basket  as  to  be  shoved  through  the  key-hole  of 


282  WINTER     IN     DANBURY. 

a  valise.  The  first  articles  he  doubles  up  with  his 
hands,  and  there  is  a  faint  semblance  of  carefulness 
in  packing  them  away  ;  but,  after  that,  he  smashes 
them  into  the  basket  without  any  ceremony,  and 
crowds  them  down  with  his  foot.  He  uses  the 
same  care  in  taking  down  a  fine  cambric  handker- 
chief that  he  does  in  capturing  a  sheet,  and  makes 
two  handkerchiefs  of  every  one.  When  he  gets 
far  from  the  basket,  -he  allows  the  articles  to  multi- 
ply in  his  arms,  so  as  to  save  steps  ;  and,  when  he 
gets  his  arms  full  of  the  awkward  and  miserable 
things,  whose  sharp,  icy  corners  job  him  in  the 
neck  and  face,  he  comes  to  an  article  that  refuses 
to  give  way  on  one  end.  He  pulls  and  shakes  des- 
perately at  it,  howling  and  screaming  in  his  rage, 
until  he  inadvertently  steps  on  the  dragging  end  of 
a  sheet,  and  then  he  comes  down  flat  on  the  frozen 
snow,  but  bounds  up  again,  grating  his  teeth,  and, 
hastily  depositing  the  bundle  in  the  basket,  darts 
back  to  the  refractory  member,  and,  taking  hold  of 
it,  fiercely  tugs  at  it,  while  he  fairly  jumps  up  and 
down  in  the  extremity  of  his  anger  and  cold.  Then 
it  comes  unexpectedly,  and  with  it  a  part  of  the 
next  article,  and  he  goes  over  again,  this  time  on 
his  back,  and  with  violence.  With  the  clothes  gath- 
ered, he  takes  the  basket  up  in  his  livid  hands,  thus 
bringing  the  top  articles  against  his  already  frozen 
chin,  and,  thus  tortured,  propels  his  lifeless  limbs 
into  the  house.     She  stands  ready  to  tell  him  to 


THE    MISSION     OF    A    NIGHT.  2S3 

close  the  door,  and  is  thoughtful  enough  to  ask  him 
if  it's  cold  work.  But,  if  he  is  a  wise  man,  he  will 
make  no  answer.  If  he  is  a  wise  man,  he  will 
silently  plant  himself  in  front  of  the  stove,  and, 
framing  his  frozen  features  into  an  implacable  frown, 
will  preserve  that  exterior,  without  the  faintest 
modification,  until  bedtime. 


THE     MISSION    OF    A     NIGHT. 

An  exceedingly  fine  and  stealthy  rain  stole  upon 
Danbury  late  last  night.  It  came  so  quietly,  and 
froze  so  thoroughly,  that  not  a  soul  knew  of  its 
presence  on  the  walk  and  stoop.  There  was  noth- 
ing to  indicate  its  being  there  until  it  was  stepped 
upon  ;  and  all  Danbury  came  out  doors  as  innocent 
and  as  unsuspecting  as  a  babe  in  a  spittoon.  The 
general  tableau  was  a  back-stoop,  with  a  hired  girl 
frantically  endeavoring  to  separate  herself  and  a 
pail  of  slops,  and  to  strike  the  ground  on  her  feet ; 
while  at  the  front-door  a  sweet  voice  murmured 
"  Good-by,  dearest  ;  come  home  early  ;  "  and  a 
deep  bass  voice  in  response,  "  Yes,  my  precious, 
I'll  —  Whoop  !  Great  heav —  !  Ouch  !  "  At  nine 
A.M.,  there  wasn't  a  rheumatic  person  in  town  who 
knew  where  his  liniment  was. 


284  WINTER    IN     DANBURY. 


WAS     HE     AFRAID? 

The  trouble  with  the  Danbury  water-pipes  in 
the  past  few  days,  although  of  a  serious  nature,  has 
been  productive  of  ludicrous  incidents.  One  man 
on  Division  Street  had  his  kitchen  flooded  by  the 
bursting  of  a  pipe  late  Friday  night.  Toward 
morning,  he  was  taken  with  a  sharp  thirst ;  and 
getting  up  quietly,  so  as  not  to  disturb  his  wife,  or 
any  one  who  might  be  in  the  house  after  plunder, 
he  proceeded  in  the  dark  to  the  kitchen  for  a  drink. 
That  apartment  is  a  step  or  two  below  the  sitting- 
room  ;  and,  in  descending  to  it,  he  planted  one 
naked  foot  squarely  in  the  water  on  the  floor. 
With  a  promptness  that  is  remarkable,  considering 
the  severe  shock  to  his  nervous  system,  he  bounded 
back,  and  screamed,  "  Whoop  !  murder !  let  go  of 
there,  I  tell  ye  !  "  Then  a  deep  silence  followed. 
"  What's  the  matter  } "  asked  his  wife,  who  was 
awakened  by  his  cry.  There  was  no  reply. 
"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  she  demanded  in  a  louder 
voice,  missing  him  from  the  bed.  But  still  there 
was  no  answer.  Now  thoroughly  frightened,  she 
cried  in  a  higher  tone,  "  Reuben,  Reuben !  what  is 
the  matter .''  "  and  a  suppressed  voice  within  six 
inches  of  her  head  suddenly  hissed,  "  Shut  up  your 
infernal  clack,  can't  ye,  ye  old  fool  ? "  It  is  pre- 
sumed Reuben  knew  what  was  the  matter. 


YOUNG    COVILLE    CATCHES    ON     BEHIND.     285 


YOUNG    COVILLE    CATCHES    ON    BEHIND. 

Young  Coville  was  out  looking  for  a  ride 
Friday  afternoon.  He  had  his  sled  with  him,  and 
wanted  to  fasten  it  to  a  horse-sleigh.  An  opportu- 
nity finally  presented  itself.  It  was  a  farmer  who 
was  driving  ;  and  he  had  two  good  horses.  His  son 
sat  in  the  back  of  the  sleigh,  watching  the  various 
village  boys.  He  was  a  pale  boy,  with  a  broad 
forehead  and  a  soft  brown  eye.  No  one  can  read 
character  so  well  as  children ;  and,  when  Master 
Coville  looked  into  the  open  countenance  of  the 
farmer-lad,  he  put  after  the  sleigh  with  all  his 
might,  and,  catching  up  to  it,  threw  himself  on  the 
tail-board,  keeping  his  eye  firmly  fixed  on  the 
farmer-boy.  Then  the  farmer-boy  suggested  that 
young  Coville  get  on  his  own  sled,  and  he  would 
hold  the  rope  for  a  little  way.  The  offer  was 
accepted  at  once  ;  and  Master  Coville  mounted  his 
own  sled,  where  he  rode  in  triumph,  to  the  envy 
of  every  boy  he  passed.  Getting  towards  the 
suburbs,  the  farmer,  who  was  quite  deaf,  hurried 
forward  his  horses ;  and  Master  Coville  tried  to 
look  ahead  without  smiling  ;  but  it  was  impossible, 
the  speed  was  so  exhilarating.  When  the  party 
got  by  Granville  Avenue,  young  Coville  told  the 
farmer-boy  that  he  guessed  he'd  be  going  back,  and, 
if  he'd  kindly  drop  the  rope,  he'd  confer  a  favor. 
The  farmer-boy  smiled   a  rural   smile,  but   didn't 


286  WINTER    IN     DANBURY. 

relax  his  hold  on  the  rope.  Young  Coville  smiled 
too,  but  rather  feebly,  and  again  repeated  his  re- 
quest. But  the  soft  brown  eye  was  musing,  and 
the  rope  still  remained  in  the  owner's  grasp. 
Young  Coville  began  to  look  scared.  It  was  after 
five  o'clock,  and  would  be  dark  in  an  hour ;  and 
here  he  was,  sailing  out  into  the  country  at  the 
rate  of  eight  miles  an  hour. 

"  Let  go  of  there,  why  don't  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  farmer-boy  smiled,  —  one  of  those  blossom- 
ing smiles,  which  told  of  green  dells  and  moss- 
fringed  brooks. 

"  If  you  don't  let  go  of  that  rope,  I'll  just  get 
into  that  sleigh,  and  smash  yer  darned  old  snoot  !  " 
suggested  young  Coville ;  which  was  a  very  impru- 
dent statement,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  every  mus- 
cle was  engaged  in  keeping  his  seat. 

But  the  farmer-lad  did  not  let  go.  He  kept  his 
hold  of  the  rope,  and  kept  up  the  smiles,  —  the 
waving-grain  and  blooming-daisy  smiles. 

"  Oh !  I'll  make  you  laugh  on  the  other  side  of 
your  mouth  if  you  don't  let  go  of  that  rope ! " 
shouted  young  Coville  as  he  saw  the  paved  side- 
walks give  way  to  foot-paths,  and  gardens  dissolve 
into  broad,  snow-clad  fields. 

On  they  went,  the  farmer-lad  smiling  so  beauti- 
fully, and  young  Coville  grating  his  teeth,  and 
shouting  the  awful  things  he  would  do  in  the 
future. 


YOUNG    COVILLE    CATCHES    ON    BEHIND.     287 

About  four  miles  out  of  town,  and  as  they  were 
passing  through  a  heavy  wood,  the  farmer-boy 
smiled  a  broad  smile,  and  let  go  of  the  rope  ;  and, 
as  the  sleigh  darted  away,  the  rope  passed  under 
the  sled,  bringing  it  up  so  suddenly  as  to  throw 
young  Coville  heels  over  head  into  the  snow. 
When  he  got  up,  the  sleigh  was  going  over  a  hill, 
and  his  tormentor  was  throwing  agricultural  kisses 
at  him. 

It  was  late  at  night  when  Master  Coville  reached 
his  home ;  but,  when  he  went  to  bed,  there  were 
thirteen  snowballs,  soaked  with  water,  freezing 
slowly  but  surely  on  a  board  in  the  back-yard. 


ETCHINGS. 


ETCHINGS. 


WERE    YOU     EVER    THERE? 

When  a  young  man  is  in  love,  he  becomes  sus- 
picious of  his  male  companions  ;  but  he  doesn't 
understand  why  any  one  similarly  involved  should 
entertain  this  feeling  toward  him.  The  object  of 
the  other  party's  choice  is  indifferent  to  him.  He 
sees  nothing  especially  attractive  in  her  counte- 
nance or  accomplishments  ;  and,  if  he  chooses  to 
pay  her  an  attention,  it  is  the  prompting  of  courte- 
sy ;  and,  if  the  other  party  should  object,  it  is  mean 
jealousy.  When  a  man  thoroughly  loves  a  woman, 
he  sees  in  her  an  attraction  not  before  noticeable ; 
and  so  conspicuous  become  these  good  qualities  to 
him,  that  he  easily  imagines  they  are  as  plain  to 
other  gentlemen  ;  and  any  favor  they  may  show  her 
is  simply  a  desperate  endeavor  to  gain  the  gem  he 
so  fondly  hopes  to  wear.  It  is  this  simple  misun- 
derstanding which  causes  four-fifths  of  the  heart- 
burnings and    misery  attendant   upon    loving  and 


being  loved. 


391 


292  ETCHINGS. 


A  lovers'  quarrel  is  a  formidable  affair  while  it  is 
in  progress.  It  shrouds  the  two  souls  in  a  chilling 
pall  of  impenetrable  gloom ;  but,  looked  back  upon 
from  the  changed  circumstances  worked  by  time, 
it  appears  so  silly  and  ridiculous  as  to  be  really 
exasperating. 

There  was  such  a  state  of  feeling  existing  be- 
tween two  of  our  young  folks  Sunday  evening. 
They  attended  church.  In  the  pew  given  them 
was  a  young  gentleman,  who  sat  at  the  opposite 
end.  They  entered  without  disturbing  him  ;  and 
she  was  brought  next  to  him.  They  three  were 
acquainted.  He  nodded  to  her,  and  smiled  ;  then 
he  whispered  to  her,  and  she  looked  wonderfully 
pleased,  and  whispered  back.  Her  young  man 
smiled  too  :  he  knew  that  he  should  do  something 
of  the  sort,  if  he  didn't  want  to  appear  pain- 
fully conspicuous  to  the  public,  which  was  ready 
in  an  instant  to  divine  his  jealousy,  and  gloat  over 
his  defeat.  But  it  is  a  hard  matter  to  smile 
when  you  see  nothing  to  smile  at :  it  makes  the 
face  tired  in  an  incredibly  small  space  of  time. 
The  service  proceeded.  The  lover  reached  over 
and  spoke  to  her.  He  had  to  speak  twice  before 
she  heard  him.  She  was  apparently  abstracted 
with  thought.  What  thoughts  ?  It  made  him 
sick.  At  the  giving-out  of  the  hymn,  he  leaned 
forward  to  take  a  book  from  the  rack  just  .as  the 
young  man  secured  one.     He  drew  back.     What 


WERE    YOU     EVER    THERE  ?  293 

was  that  young  man  going  to  do  ?  Have  her  sing 
with  himself,  of  course.  All  right  :  he  would  not 
make  a  fool  of  himself  by  looking  up  a  place, 
offering  it  to  her,  and  running  the  risk  of  a  refusal. 
And  so  the  young  man  found  the  place,  and  ex- 
tended the  book  to  her.  Poor  girl !  She  cast  a 
furtive  glance  at  her  lover.  He  had  made  no 
provision  for  the  emergency.  She  didn't  want  to 
sing  with  this  young  man.  She  didn't  love  him. 
It  was  not  his  shoulder  she  wanted  to  press.  She 
took  hold  of  the  book,  and  wondered  with  all  her 
heart  what  was  the  matter  with  Jiim.  Was  he  ill .'' 
Was  he  a  little  bit  jealous  .-•  Woman  intuition  had 
struck  it,  as  was  evident  in  the  increased  bright- 
ness of  her  eyes,  in  the  additional  flush  to  her 
face.  She  could  not  help  it  any  more  than  she 
could  ward  off  the  fury  of  Vesuvius  ;  but  she  was 
happy  in  the  thought.  It  was  another  and  a 
marked  evidence  of  his  love. 

And  he!  —  what  of  him  .''  Well,  he  sat  as  stiff 
as  if  he  had  suddenly  been  run  full  of  lead.  To 
add  to  the  pain  gnawing  at  his  heart-strings,  he 
felt  that  nearly  every  eye  in  the  building  was  bear- 
ing upon  him.  He  looked  carefully  over  the  ceil- 
ing of  the  church,  staring  at  the  most  trifling 
objects  thereon  with  a  fiery  intenseness.  If  he 
could  only  make  the  people  believe  that  he  was 
enraptured  with  the  beautiful  and  ennobling  occu- 
pation of  architecture,  he  would  be  satisfied.     If 


294  ETCHINGS. 


success  is  commensurate  with  earnestness  of  pur- 
pose, he  was  entitled  to  it.  The  service  moved 
along.  All  the  time,  the  pit  of  his  stomach  appeared 
to  be  receding  away  from  him,  and  yet  making 
itself  dreadfully  felt.  His  mind  ran  recklessly  to 
death,  hearses,  and  graveyards.  He  pictured  her 
in  the  midst  of  a  gay  company,  talking,  laughing, 
flirting  with  this  young  man,  when  the  news  is 
suddenly  let  in  upon  her  that  he  is  dead.  Dead! 
cold,  stark,  stiff,  —  the  one  who  loved  her  so  madly ! 
There  was  a  grim  pleasure  in  his  heart  as  the 
picture  unfolded  her  in  awful  convulsions,  calling 
wildly  for  him  ;  and  on  the  dark  background  of  the 
ghastly  spectacle  was  written  in  flame  of  fire, 
"Too  late,  too  late!"  Over  and  over  again,  this 
horrible  phantasm  was  conjured  up. 

And  she  sat  there,  happy  in  her  own  conceit,  and 
yet  feeling  pity  for  him. 

And  so  the  service  went  on  ;  and  the  meeting 
closed,  and  they  all  passed  out.  He  walked  stiffly. 
She  moved  easily,  with  radiant  face;  and  the 
young  man  was  as  beaming  as  a  sun-flower.  She 
told  him  she  had  not  seen  him  in  a  dosf's  asre,  and 
wanted  to  know  why  he  didn't  come  up  to  the 
house  any  more.  He  smiled  cheerfully,  and  said 
he  had  been  very  busy  of  late,  but  would  make  all 
amends  at  once.  At  which  she  appeared  quite 
pleased,  although  she  secretly  hoped  he  would 
continue  to  be  too  busy  to  come  ;  but  the  words 
were  erall  and  wormwood  to  the  lover. 


WERE    YOU    EVER    THERE  ?  295 

They  got  outside  finally,  and  were  moving  along 
alone,  these  two  pledged  hearts  His  face  was  like 
a  stone,  and  the  pit  of  his  stomach  was  as  faint  as 
a  traveller  in  a  weary  land.  He  was  rapidly  plan- 
ning his  future  course.  She  was  heartless  :  that 
had  been  satisfactorily  demonstrated.  She  could 
not  deny  this,  and  also  that  there  had  been  no 
provocation.  He  must  leave  her.  Ah !  he  would 
treat  her  indifferently  now :  he  would  give  her  a 
little  taste  of  the  pain  which  he  was  suffering,  and 
see  how  she  liked  it.  Ah !  perhaps  she  might 
like  it.  Oh !  the  perspiration  stood  out  on  his 
brow  in  great  beads.  Heavens  !  could  it  be  possi- 
ble she  was  already  gone  out  to  that  young  man  ? 
He  must  not  be  rash;  and  yet  —  she  must  suffer 
too ;  yes,  yes,  she  must  suffer  too.  He  was  on 
the  alert  for  the  first  evidence  of  pain  on  her  part. 
He  hungered  for  it.  He  wanted  her  to  droop  into 
a  despairing  silence.  Unfortunately,  her  sex  rarely 
meets  expectations. 

"  How  did  you  like  the  sermon  ? "  she  artlessly 
asked. 

He  would  have  much  rather  that  she  asked  him 
why  he  was  so  still  ;  but  he  crowded  down  the 
disappointment,  and  determined  to  be  as  indifferent 
as  she  was. 

"  Oh  !  pretty  well,"  he  said,  raising  his  voice  a 
trifle  more  than  was  absolutely  necessary. 

"  I    never   enjoyed  a  sermon   any  better  in  my 


296  ETCHINGS. 


life,"  she  maliciously  observed,  at  the  same  time 
being  quite  confident  she  hadn't  been  so  miserable 
in  a  week. 

He  winced,  but  promptly  said,  — 

"  That's  just  what  I  think  about  it.  I  shall  go 
to  that  church  every  evening  after  this." 

They  talked  about  one  thing  and  another  during 
the  rest  of  the  way,  the  interest  drooping  more 
and  more  as  they  neared  her  door.  Would  he  go 
in.-*  he  asked  himself  a  hundred  times.  And  every 
time  he  said  No,  —  at  first  firmly  and  with  vigor, 
but  at  last  very  faintly  indeed.  When  they  reached 
the  house,  he  hesitated.  She  walked  up  on  the 
stoop,  opened  the  door,  and,  turning  to  him,  said, 
"  Ain't  you  coming  in  .''  " 

He  wasn't ;  but  she  had  not  yet  weakened  suffi- 
ciently. So  he  would  go  in,  but  remain  dark  and 
stiff  like  a  mummy,  to  show  her  what  it  was  to 
suffer.  But  he  would  not  give  in  to  her.  She 
would  mutely  appeal  to  him,  and  creep  up  close  to 
him,  and  tumble  his  hair  ;  but  he  would  not  melt. 
He  would  go  away  in  a  few  minutes  as  repellant  as 
he  now  felt,  and  she  would  retire  with  a  dreadful 
pain  in  her  heart.  It  was  a  bright  picture  he  thus 
conjured,  —  so  bright,  that  he  almost  smiled  in  its 
radiance. 

Then  he  went  in.  Had  he  been  a  hearse  in  a 
city  of  two  million  inhabitants,  he  could  not  have 
entered  that  house  with  more  solemn  magnificence. 


WERE    YOU    EVER    THERE  ?  297 

He  didn't  go  near  the  sofa :  he  dropped  into  a 
chair,  and  stared  moodily  at  the  carpet.  She 
arranged  the  lamp,  and  sank  down  on  the  sofa. 
There  was  an  attempt  on  her  part  to  shake  off  the 
gloom  ;  but  he  did  not  respond.  He  only  thought 
of  his  suddenly  dying,  and  of  her  going  into  mad- 
dening convulsions.  He  sat  there,  and  wanted  to 
die,  so  as  to  see  how  she  would  take  on  about  it ; 
although  dead  men  are  not  particularly  noted  for 
very  keenly  observing  what  takes  place  about  them 
in  this  life. 

The  conversation  lagged.  Both  of  them  were 
losing  their  Sunday  evening,  the  dearest  to  them 
of  all  the  week ;  and  she  was  feeling  it  keenly. 
And  yet  she  would  persist  in  talking  about  the 
most  foreign  subjects;  while  he  would  gloomily  eye 
the  carpet,  and  answer  in  the  most  depressing 
monosyllables.  Finally  he  got  up,  and  said  in  a 
constrained  voice  that  he  guessed  he  must  be 
going.  He  moved  for  his  hat,  wishing  that  it  was 
a  mile  away,  and  feeling  as  if  he  would  give  his 
life  if  she  would  only  speak  to  him.  But  she  took 
up  the  light  as  if  this  was  the  farthest  from  her 
intentions,  and  prepared  to  see  him  to  the  door. 
There  was  a  gloom  resting  on  both  of  them  now, 
a  fearful  looking  forward  to  a  woe  that  was  to 
come. 

He  reached  the  door  without  a  word  being 
exchanged,  and  was  turning  around  in  an  awkward 


298  ETCHINGS. 


way  to  bid  her  good-night,  when  a  peculiar  look  — 
a  half-sorrowful,  half-smiling  look  in  her  eyes  — 
caused  him  to  hesitate,  and  respond  with  the  same 
expression. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you,  darling  ? "  she 
asked,  getting  as  close  to  him  as  possible. 

There  is  no  need  of  further  accompanying  them. 
In  the  short  space  of  two  minutes,  they  were 
squarely  posted  on  the  dear,  familiar  lounge ;  and 
it  was  two  o'clock  the  next  morning,  as  usual, 
when  he  left. 

As  for  the  other  young  man,  he  had  eaten  a 
piece  of  pie  and  gone  to  bed  hours  ago,  totally 
unconscious  of  the  misery  he  had  caused  and  of 
those  enduring  it. 


COURTING    UNDER     DIFFICULTIES. 

The  epizootic  is  not  entirely  confined  to  horses, 
as  the  following  will  show.  They  had  been  keep- 
ing company  a  year.  He  told  her  Friday  after- 
noon that  he  would  be  up  early  Sunday  evening, 
as  he  had  something  of  great  importance  to  tell 
her,  and  a  present  to  give  her.  With  a  woman's 
keen  intuition,  she  knew  what  the  something  of 
importance  would  be,  and  she  looked  forward  to 
the  hour  with  sweet  expectation.  He  was  there 
on  time,  but  hardly  in  the  condition  he  desired. 
A  heavy  cold  had  tackled  him  the  night    before, 


COURTING    UNDER    DIFFICULTIES.  299 

and  his  eyes  were  red  and  inflamed ;  and  his  nose 
was  nearly  twice  its  natural  size,  and  shone  with  a 
lustre  that  would  have  appeared  to  much  better 
•advantage  on  a  door-plate.  Singularly  enough,  the 
young  lady  was  similarly  conditioned.  She  ushered 
him  into  the  parlor;  and,  without  any  preliminary 
ceremony,  they  were  on  the  sofa  together.  He 
took  out  his  handkerchief,  and,  finding  a  dry  sec- 
tion, wiped  his  nose.  This  reminded  her  of  a  duty 
she  owed  herself ;  and  she  attended  to  it  at  once. 
He  held  one  of  her  hands  in  one  of  his,  and  his 
handkerchief  in  the  other.     Then  he  spoke  :  — 

"  Susad,  I  cub  do  nide  do  dalk  do  you  of  subdig 
dearer  —  ah-ah-ooh  (a  prompt  application  of  the 
handkerchief  cuts  off  the  sneeze  in  its  bud),  dearer 
do  me  thad  my  libe  —  ah-ah  —  thad  id  —  ooh-ooh- 
ker  chew,  ker  chew,  ker  chew ! "  A  moment's 
pause,  "  I'be  god  an  awvul  code,"  he  explains  with 
due  solemnity. 

"  Sobe  I,"  she  sympathizingly  replies, 

A  moment  is  devoted  to  a  silent  use  of  the  hand- 
kerchiefs ;  and  then  he  continues  :  — 

"  Darlig,  you  musd  hab  seed  all  de  tibe  how 
mudge  —  ooh-ooh-ker  (the  handkerchief  again  saves 
him)  —  how  mudge  I  hab  dhought  ob  you.  Ebry 
hour  ob  de  day  or  nide  —  ah-ah-ooh  —  ooh-ch-ch- 
ker  chezv,  ker  chew,  KER  CHEW  !  " 

"Thid  id  awvul,"  he  protested,  walking  around 
the  room ;  for  the  final  explosion  had  raised  him  to 


30O  ETCHINGS. 

his  feet.  She  wiped  her  eyes,  and  then  her  nose, 
and  made  an  honest  endeavor  to  look  languishing ; 
but  owing  to  the  watery  condition  of  the  former, 
and  the  fiery  glow  of  the  latter,  she  appeared  to  an 
unhappy  advantage.  But  he  did  not  notice  it.  He 
felt  of  his  proboscis  tenderly  for  a  moment,  and  then 
returned  to  her  side. 

"  Darlig,  I  cad  no  loger  lib  widoud  you.  Widoud 
you,  libe  would  indeed  be  a  widderness  ;  wid  "  — 

She  impulsively  raised  her  hand. 

"  Ker-ker-ker  chew!''  she  shouted. 

He  paused,  and  gazed  tenderly  out  of  his  inflamed 
eyes  upon  her  convulsed  features. 

"Darlig,"  he  softly  continued,  seeing  she  was 
through,  "you  cad  neber  know  how  mudge  —  ah- 
ooh-ooh-ah-ker  chew,  ker  —  wish  —  sh-sh-er-r-r,  ker 
chew,  ker  chew —  Ooh,  my!  —  oh,  dear!"  he 
wailed,  impetuously  grabbing  for  his  handkerchief, 
while  the  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks. 

She  took  advantage  of  the  lull  to  unobtrusively 
apply  her  handkerchief. 

"  Susad,"  he  began  again,  grasping  her  hand 
with  fervor,  and  clutching  his  handkerchief  with 
equal  earnestness,  "  what  id  libe  widoud  lub .-' 
Noddig.  Darlig,  do  yoo,  cad  yoo,  lub  me  enough 
to  be  my  —  ah-ah-ooh-ker-chew !  Heavigs,  thid  id 
awvul."  He  mopped  the  perspiration  from  his 
troubled  countenance,  and  then  waited  until  she 
re-appeared  from  behind  her  handkerchief,  when  he 
resumed  :  — 


COURTING    UNDER    DIFFICULTIES.  3OI 

"  I  ask  aged,  darlig,  cad  yoo  lub  me  enough  to 
be  me  wibe  ?  " 

The  young  girl  dropped  her  head  upon  his  breast, 
put  her  arm  around  his  neck,  and  was  just  about 
to  speak  the  glad  answer,  when  a  sudden  spasm 
shook  her  frame,  and  she  went  off  into  a  series  of 
sneezes  which  fairly  endangered  the  safety  of  her 
fair  neck.  "  O  my  lub !  O  my  brechious  !  "  he  sym- 
pathizingly  exclaimed,  "  sbeak,  oh,  sbeakd !  —  abooh- 
ooh-ker-chew,  ker-chew,  ker-chew  !  "  he  roared. 

She  fell  into  his  arms  again,  perfectly  exhausted. 

"  You'll  be  mide,  all  mide !  "  he  gasped. 

"I  will,  Hedry,  I  will !"  she  hoarsely  whispered. 

He  drew  her  to  him  with  all  his  strength,  and 
slipped  the  ring  upon  her  trembling  finger ;  and 
there  they  stood  together,  their  reddened  and  half- 
closed  eyes,  blinking  in  sweet,  holy  ecstasy  upon 
each  other,  while  their  exhausted  nostrils  shone 
with  a  dim  refulgence. 

"  My  boor  darlig  has  got  sudge  a  bad  code,"  he 
sympathizingly  murmured 

"So  id  my  Hedry,"  she  softly  whispered  back. 

"  I  dode  gare  for  myseld.  I  "  —  he  suddenly  put 
her  away,  recovered  his  handkerchief,  and  instantly 
went  off  in  a  paroxysm  of  sneezes. 

"  Oh ! "  he  sighed,  as  he  regained  a  perpendicular 
again,  and  mopped  off  his  face,  which  was  now 
almost  purple  in  hue. 

"  You  must  dake  sub  medicid  for  that  code  to- 
nide,"  she  said. 


302  ETCHINGS. 


"  Both  ob  US,"  he  added. 

"  Yes,  a'd  you'll  zoak  your  feed  in  hod  wader." 

"  I  will,  a'd  you'll  zoak  yours  .'' "  he  eagerly  asked. 

"  I  will,"  she  solemnly  replied. 

"  Hevig  bless  you,  my  darlig,  my  brecious  darlig!" 
he  murmured,  clasping  her  again  tightly  to  his 
breast.  And  then  he  stole  out  into  the  darkness  ; 
and  she  lingered  a  moment  at  the  door,  and  heard 
his  dear  voice  ring  out  on  the  night-air  as  he  passed 
away,  — 

"  Ker  chew,  ker  chew,  ker  c-h-e-w  !  " 


THE    BAD     BROTHER. 

He  got  two  pounds  of  cream  caramels  for  her 
(he  got  two  pounds  of  them,  because  it's  a  confec- 
tion she  adores)  ;  then  he  overhauled  her  young 
brother,  who  was  scooting  around  on  the  street 
with  characteristic  aimlessness,  and  got  him  to 
take  the  package  up  to  the  house.  He  gave  the 
young  man  a  nickel  for  the  performance  of  the 
errand,  and  made  security  doubly  secure  by  telling 
him,  with  an  air  of  unblemished  confidence,  that  it 
was  a  package  of  worsted,  and  that  he  must  be 
very  careful  to  deliver  it.  The  young  brother 
started  briskly  for  home  ;  but,  as  soon  as  he  was 
out  of  sight  of  the  donor,  he  paused,  and,  with  a 
perplexed    expression    of   countenance,    began    to 


THE    BAD    BROTHER,  303 

carefully  weigh  and  press  the  package.  His  per- 
plexity increasing,  he  carefully  poked  a  hole  in 
the  wrapper ;  then  he  smiled  such  a  wholesome 
smile,  that  it  was  really  delightful  to  see  it;  then 
he  quickened  his  pace. 

When  our  hero  called  in  the  evening,  he  looked 
anxiously  for  marks  of  the  caramels  on  his  be- 
loved's chin  ;  but  he  looked  in  vain  :  there  was  not 
even  the  faintest  indication  at  the  corners  of  her 
lovely  mouth  that  any  thing  in  the  line  of  cream 
caramels  had  travelled  that  way  for  some  time. 
He  waited  all  the  evening  for  some  mention  of 
the  refreshment ;  but  not  a  word  :  he  was  non- 
plussed. Nearly  the  third  of  a  week's  salary  had 
gone  in  this  purchase  ;  and  he  might  as  well  have 
dropped  it  into  the  crater  of  Vesuvius,  as  far 
as  satisfaction  was  concerned.  The  mystery  ap- 
palled him.  Before  morning,  there  was  another 
mystery  in  that  house.  It  took  a  doctor  and  one- 
third  of  an  aroused  neighborhood  to  subdue  young 
Johnny's  stomach-ache.  Such  an  astonishing  ache 
was  never  before  crowded  into  such  narrow  limits. 
The  doctor  couldn't  understand  it ;  neither  could 
anybody  else.  Johnny's  nose  doesn't  mar  the 
plate-glass  of  confectionery  windows  now ;  and  the 
man  who  went  to  see  Johnny's  sister  has  taken  to 
drink. 


304  ETCHINGS. 

He  was  on  his  knees  to  her.  His  face  was 
flushed  ;  his  eyes  gleamed  passionately  into  her's  ; 
he  talked  rapidly  :  — 

"  Nothing  shall  separate  us  evermore,  my  dar- 
ling. For  your  sake  I  will  beard  the  lion  in  his 
den  ;  I  will  face  death  on  the  battle-field  ;  I  will 
skim  the  seas  ;  I  will  endure  all  hardship,  all  suf- 
fering, all  misery." 

He  paused,  and  looked  eagerly  to  her,  with  his 
whole  soul  quivering  in  his  eyes. 

"  Will  you  do  all  this  for  the  sake  of  my  love  .'*" 
said  she,  gazing  earnestly  into  the  burning  eyes. 

"  Yes,  yes,  a  thousand  times  yes  !  " 

"  And  if  we  wed,"  continued  she,  flushing  slight- 
ly, "  will  you  get  up  first  and  build  the  fire  ? " 

With  a  shriek  of  despair  he  fled. 


A  PRUDENT  YOUNG  MAN. 

One  of  the  Danbury  young  men  who  has  occa- 
sionally escorted  a  young  lady  home  on  Sunday 
evenings,  and  went  in  for  lunch,  after  performing 
both  services  last  Sunday  night,  suddenly  said  to 
her,  — 

"  Do  you  talk  in  your  sleep  .'' " 

"  Why  —  no."  she  answered  in  surprise. 

"  Do  you  walk  in  your  sleep  .''  "  he  next  inquired. 

"  No,  sir." 


A    PRUDENT    YOUNG    MAN.  305 

He  moved  his  chair  an  inch  closer,  and  with 
increased  interest  asked,  — 

"  Do  you  snore  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  hastily  replied,  looking  uneasily  at 
him. 

At  this  reply  his  eyes  fairly  sparkled ;  his  lips 
eagerly  parted ;  and,  as  he  gave  his  chair  another 
hitch,  he  briskly  inquired,  — 

"  Do  you  throw  the  combings  from  your  hair  in 
the  wash-basin  ?  " 

"  What's  that  ? "  she  asked  with  a  blank  face. 

He  repeated  the  question,  although  with  in- 
creased nervousness. 

"  No,  I  don't,"  she  answered  in  some  haste. 

Again  his  chair  went  forward  ;  while  his  agita- 
tion grew  so  great,  that  he  could  scarcely  maintain 
his  place  upon  it,  as  he  further  asked,  — 

"  Do  you  clean  out  the  comb  when  you  are 
through  ? " 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  she  said,  staring  at  him  with 
all  her  might. 

In  an  instant  he  was  on  his  knees  before  her, 
his  eyes  ablaze  with  flame,  and  his  hands  out- 
stretched. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  miss  !  I  love  you,"  he  passionately 
cried.  "  I  give  my  whole  heart  up  to  you.  Love 
me,  and  I  will  be  your  slave.  Love  me  as  I  love 
you,  and  I  will  do  every  thing  on  earth  for  you. 
Oh !  will  you  take  me  to  be  your  lover,  your  hus- 
band, your  protector,  your  every  thing  ?  " 


3o6  ETCHINGS. 


It  was  a  critical  moment  for  a  young  woman  of 
her  years  ;  but  she  was  equal  to  the  emergency,  as 
a  woman  generally  is,  and  she  scooped  him  in. 


He  wanted  her ;  but  she  would  not  give  her 
consent  until  he  had  consulted  her  parents  :  so  he 
went  into  the  room  where  they  were,  and  modestly 
stated  the  case. 

"  And  you  really  think  you  love  her  enough  to 
marry  her  ? "  said  the  father,  after  he  had  finished. 

"  Oh,  yes,  sir  !  "  said  the  youth  in  fervent  eager- 
ness :  "  I  love  her  with  all  my  soul.  I  love  her 
better  than  I  do  my  life.  She  is  my  guiding-star, 
the  worshipped  object  of  my  every  thought,  every 
hope,  every  aspiration."  He  stood  there  with 
clasped  hands,  his  face  radiant  with  the  strength 
of  his  devotion.  There  was  a  moment  of  pause ; 
and  then  the  mother  softly  asked,  — 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that,  old  man  .-'  " 

"  That  sounds  like  business,  old  woman,"  replied 
the  satisfied  father. 

And  so  it  was  arranged  that  the  daughter  should 
accept  her  suitor. 


A    PRACTICAL    SUGGESTION.  307 


A     PRACTICAL    SUGGESTION. 

They  had  a  quarrel  Sunday  evening.  He  got 
mad,  and  swore  he'd  leave  her  ;  then  she  got  vexed, 
and  told  him  he  could  do  as  he  pleased.  He  left. 
The  next  night  he  came  around  again.  He  asked 
to  see  her  alone.  She  readily  complied.  She  was 
all  of  a  tremor.  Her  heart  went  out  to  him  in  a 
gush  of  sympathetic  love.  She  stood  ready  to 
throw  both  arms  about  his  neck,  and  cry  out  her 
joy.  There  was  not  much  color  in  his  face,  and 
his  voice  was  husky.     He  said,  — 

"I  have  been  with  you  six  months,  Matilda;  and 
I  tried  in  all  that  time  to  do  what  was  right."  He 
paused  an  instant  to  recover  the  voice  which  was 
faltering  rapidly,  while  her  trembling  increased. 
"  I  know  that  I  have  got  considerable  temper,  and 
that  I  do  not  control  it  always  as  I  ought  :  but  I 
have  tried  to  be  faithful  to  you,  —  tried  to  do  every 
thing  that  I  thought  would  tend  to  make  you 
happy  ;  and,  feeling  this,  I  have  called  to-night 
to  see  if  you  wouldn't  be  kind  enough  to  give  me 
a  sort  of  testimonial  to  this  effect,  so  that  I  could 
show  it  to  any  other  young  lady  I  might  want  to 
go  with.     It  might  help  me." 

He  looked  at  her  anxiously.  All  the  color  left 
her  face  in  a  flash.  She  made  a  great  effort  to 
swallow  something  which  threatened  to  suffocate 
her.     Then  she  spoke  :  — 


3o8  ETCHINGS. 


"  You  get  out  of  this  house  as  quick  as  you  can, 
you  miserable  whelp,  or  my  father  shall  kick  you 
out !  " 

He  didn't  toy  with  time.  He  left  without  the 
testimonial. 


PHOTOGRAPHING    HER    MA. 

He  is  a  young  photographer,  just  starting  in 
business  and  love.  The  other  afternoon,  his  girl's 
mother  called  for  a  sitting.  He  desired  to  make  a 
most  favorable  impression  upon  that  portion  of  her 
mind  which  could  appreciate  photography,  and  so 
he  became  a  trifle  nervous  in  the  work.  But  he 
got  her  fixed  finally,  with  her  eyes  fixed  glassily  on 
a  certain  object,  as  is  the  custom  ;  then  he  drew 
the  cloth,  took  out  his  watch,  and  counted  off 
thirty  seconds,  restored  the  cloth,  and  drew  out 
the  case. 

"  Gracious  ! "  he  unintentionally  ejaculated,  "  I 
forgot  to  put  in  the  plate." 

The  old  lady  had  to  sit  again,  and  she  prepared 
for  the  ordeal,  but  with  confidence  in  the  operator 
considerably  abated.  He  was  more  nervous  now 
than  before,  and  it  was  some  few  minutes  before 
he  had  her  arranged  to  suit  the  focus.  Then  the 
cloth  was  again  removed,  the  watch  again  pulled 
out.  He  counted  off  the  thirty  seconds,  removed 
the  cloth,  and  drew  out  the  case. 


ALMOST    A    MISUNDERSTANDING.  309 

"  Great  heavens ! "  he  groaned  in  a  frightened 
voice,  "  I  forgot  to  pull  out  the  slide  !  " 

The  prospective  mother-in-law  sprang  to  her 
feet,  snatched  up  her  hat  and  shawl,  and,  pausing 
long  enough  to  inquire  if  he  was  drunk,  shot  out 
of  the  door,  leaving  the  pallid-faced  artist  grasping 
a  chair  for  support. 


ALMOST    A     MISUNDERSTANDING. 

He  called  Sunday  night,  as  had  been  his  custom 
for  several  weeks.  After  they  got  together  alone 
in  the  parlor,  he  plucked  up  his  courage  to  the 
proper  point,  and  proposed  to  her,  telling  her  of 
the  days  when  every  thought  was  of  her,  and  only 
her.     Then  he  said,  — 

"  Dearest,  will  you  be  mine  ? " 

And  she  said,  — 

"  I  will." 

Then  he  caught  her  in  his  arms,  and  pressed  her 
drooping  face  close  to  his  yearning  breast. 

Tighter  still  he  drew  his  arms  about  her. 

"  My  darling,"  he  started  to  whisper,  bending  his 
face  close  to  hers  ;  when  her  head  flew  up  so  sud- 
denly as  to  catch  him  under  the  chin  with  suffi- 
cient force  to  almost  amputate  his  tongue. 

"  Oh  !  "  he  gasped. 

"  Phew!"  she  ejaculated  :  "  why,  how  you  smell ! " 

"  Smell !  "  he  repeated,  while  his  smarting  tongue 
forced  the  tears  into  his  eyes. 


3IO  ETCHINGS. 


"  Yes,"  she  replied,  bending  her  face  again  to 
his  breast,  and  sniffing  expectantly.  "  Oh,  my !  it 
is  awful ! "  she  added  as  she  drew  back  her  head. 

He  dropped  his  own  nose  into  the  infected 
neighborhood,  and  took  a  sniff;  and  then,  as  his 
face  lighted  up,  he  cheerfully  explained  :  — 

"  Oh  !  that  is  my  plaster.     I  put  it  on  for  a  cold." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  she  in  a  tone  of  relief.  And  again 
she  dropped  her  head  on  his  yearning  breast,  only 
a  little  higher  up,  and  a  little  more  to  one  side  ; 
while  he  ran  out  his  tongue,  and  tenderly  caressed 
the  wound  with  his  handkerchief. 


TEN    YEARS    AFTER. 

She  was  at  a  party.  He  had  not  yet  arrived ; 
but  she  was  momentarily  expecting  him.  The 
hum  of  conversation  through  the  room  had  no 
significance  for  her  :  all  her  faculties  were  bent 
on  the  front-door.  Every  time  it  opened,  at  every 
step  in  the  hall-way,  she  would  start,  while  her  face 
would  flush,  and  her  eyes  light  up  with  feverish 
expectation.  Then  the  color  would  go  back,  from 
her  cheeks,  her  eyes  would  dull,  and  her  heart 
sink,  when  another  than  he  came  into  the  room. 
Finally  he  arrived,  and  took  a  seat  by  her ;  and 
she  leaned  over  his  shoulder,  and  joyously  mur 
mured,  — 


THE     NINETEENTH     CENTURY.  311 

"  My  darling,  my  darling  !  "  She  was  too  happy 
to  say  aught  more. 

Ten  years  later,  and  she  again  waits  :  it  is  in 
their  own  home  now.  His  step  is  on  the  stoop  ; 
he  opens  the  door.  She  springs  quickly  to  the 
hall. 

"  Clean  your  feet !  "  she  screams. 

Ten  years  ago  they  were  not  married  :  now  they 
are. 


THE    NINETEENTH    CENTURY. 

FiTZ  Henry,  who  goes  with  Arabella,  was  on 
hand  as  usual  Sunday  evening,  when  high  words 
ensued  between  the  two.  Fitz  Henry  is  a  man  of 
the  period,  and  Arabella  is  a  full-stop  woman.  We 
don't  know  how  the  trouble  originated  ;  but  this  is 
what  was  said  by  the  twain  :  — 

He.  —  You  told you  wouldn't  go. 

She.  —  If  I  did,  I  don't  know  myself. 

He. — Well,  that's  what  he  said. 

She.  —  I  ain't  the  girl  to  give  myself  away  like 
that,  you  bet. 

He.  —  What  would  the  galoot  say  it  for,  then  ? 
That's  what's  the  matter. 

She.  —  Because  he  found  somebody  soft  enough 
to  scoop  it  in,  I  guess. 

He  (agonizingly).  —  Are  you  codding  me,  Ara- 
bella? 


312  ETCHINGS. 


She  (softening).  —  Why  should  I  cod  you  .'' 

He.  —  I  don't  know  why  you  should,  when  I  love 
you  bang  up. 

She  (very  softly).  — Then,  Hen,  why  should  we 
let  this  rooster  get  us  on  our  ear  ?  If  we  are  going 
to  mind  every  liar  that  comes  around,  we  are  going 
to  keep  in  hot  water  all  the  time  ;  but,  if  we  keep 
a  stiff  upper  lip,  they'll  soon  get  tired  of  shooting 
off  their  mouths  at  us. 

This  view  must  have  struck  him  favorably,  as 
there  was  a  sound  of  upper  lips  undergoing  a 
strengthening  process,  preceded  by  a  signification 
on  his  part  to  "  paste  the  rooster  back  of  the  ear." 


He  had  gone  up  to  her  house  with  her  from  a 
shopping-excursion  the  other  afternoon.  While  he 
was  there,  such  a  flood  of  tenderness  came  over 
him,  that  he  impulsively  dropped  on  his  knees 
before  her,  and,  giving  her  a  glance  that  spoke 
volumes,  huskily  said,  "  I  can  no  longer  keep  my 
feelings  back.  I  love  you.  Oh !  will  you,  oh  !  will 
you  be  "  — 

"  —  SHAD!  ten  cents  !"  rang  out  the  clarion 
voice  of  a  street-vender  before  the  house. 

She  made  a  clutch  for  her  handkerchief  to  cover 
up  her  emotion  ;  but  she  was  too  late.  The  ludi- 
crousness   of    the   combined   sentiments   was    too 


THE    NINETEENTH     CENTURY.  313 

much  for  her  intellect,  and  she  melted  into  a 
prolonged  giggle.  His  face  flushed  scarlet ;  and, 
for  an  instant,  he  was  too  profoundly  impressed 
to  realize  his  position.  Then  he  shot  up  on  his 
feet,  and,  with  a  howl  of  rage,  departed.  Really, 
ought  not  more  intelligent  and  more  discriminat- 
ing people  to  be  employed  on  fish-wagons. 


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